


new found, middle ground

by sweater_sasquatch



Series: take me home [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Jealous Ronan Lynch, M/M, Pining, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Slow Burn, pining Ronan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 52,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweater_sasquatch/pseuds/sweater_sasquatch
Summary: "Adam was getting married. When had that happened?Gansey had failed to mention it. There was a storm brewing inside himself, and he just wished he had been able to try and wrap his head around the idea while an ocean away from it, not facing it across a restaurant table."Six years has past since Ronan and Adam broke up, leaving on the worst of circumstance. Ronan escaped to Ireland, avoiding his feelings and by doing so, avoids the whole of the Gangsey. After years of begging, Ronan finally visits his friends in New York only to find a gut-wrenching truth: Adam Parrish is getting married. Ensue, a whole heap of pining and Ronan trying his best to become a supportive friend, while facing the unavoidable fact - that he is still in love with Adam.





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> It has been about three years since I've written fanfiction of any kind - so please bear with me. Prepare for a whole load of angst, a whole heap or pining and a lot of bad decisions - but there will be a happy ending, I'm not a complete monster. This is pretty much exclusively word vomit but I know roughly where it's going, it's also unbeta'd so any mistakes you find would be much appreciated, plus any suggestions or critique you might have. Thank you for taking the time to read this! - Kat 
> 
> (edit: hello! I finally made a tumblr so if you're enjoying, come say hi maybe? url - sweater-sasquatch)

Autumn

 

Ronan knew the moment he stepped in the diner that this trip had been a mistake. He knew it because it was so obviously Gansey trying to find an establishment that vaguely resembled Nino’s, and like all of his attempts to provoke nostalgia in Ronan, in only succeeded in two things: it fell short, and it pissed him off. It was crowded, as everywhere in New York was, bustling with waiters and tourists and loud college kids, all groups that irked Ronan for no apparent reason.

“Reservation for six,” he told the host when he walked in, out of the crisp, autumn air. Of course, you had to reserve at an easy diner in this city. “It’ll be under Gansey,” he added, when the host looked at him expectantly.

The host nodded. “Right this way,” as he escorted Ronan to a booth in the corner, he added, “You’re the first of your party to arrive.”

Ronan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because of course he would be waiting, sitting alone in the booth with only the anxiety curdling in his stomach to keep him company. There was still time to dart, he considered, pretending to busy himself with a menu. He had long ago abandoned the leather bracelets on his wrists, but found himself putting his mouth there anyway. This visit was probably going to bring back a life time of bad habits he had forgotten.

Forget walking into the diner, he knew from the moment he stepped off the plane, back on American soil for the first time in six years, that this trip would be a disaster. He had known waiting to collect his luggage, a single duffle bag that would have been fine as a carry on if the woman in front of him hadn’t taken the last space in the overhead, that the best course of action would be to catch the first flight back to Ireland without seeing anyone. He would stay in a hotel in Dublin for the week, avoiding his mother who had told him he was going in the first place.

Gansey had invited him to stay in every letter he wrote, which was usually about once a month. Sometimes when life was exciting or he was facing a problem, they would come more frequently – he got three in the same delivery the week Blue moved in. Sometimes when he was busier they would lapse, and his friend would apologise profusely in the next one he received, despite the fact Ronan never wrote him back. Not physically at least, he would email him his replies, never in full sentences and mostly in pictures he had snapped since taking up photography. He knew Dick would like his black and white shots best.

Ronan had made the mistake of leaving his monthly Gansey mail on the kitchen counter when his mom stopped by. He had followed her to Ireland to escape Declan, and found that her visits could either be a breath of fresh air to his lonely cottage, or could result in him feeling even more smothered than when his brother was in the same country. This occurrence happened to be the latter. She had read the letter and called Gansey before Ronan could come back in from taking the dog out – oh, his dog. He missed his dog, he thought.

“ _’And I already know the answer, as it will undoubtedly be the same as the other fifty-two times I have suggested it, but Jane and I would be delighted if you found the time to visit us. I know you’re extremely busy, with the farm and your photography, but all you need to do is let us know._ ’” Aurora read aloud. “Fifty-two times! I won’t have it, that boy was like blood to you, and this is how you repay him? It’s been too long, Ronan. Busy with the farm, does he even know how many workers you have?”

So, it had been arranged, and there was no way out that Ronan could see. Part of him had wondered if it would really be so bad, opening one of the emergency exits on his nine-hour flight, being sucked into the air and hurtling to his death – compared to what awaited in New York, it might have even been preferable.

But he had sucked it up, like the good friend he pretended to be, and now he waited in a cheap Nino’s replica, wondering if it would be acceptable to order – hell, maybe finish – a beer before anyone else had even arrived.

He wasn’t given a chance to consider acting upon that idea, however, because there was someone saying his name.

“Ronan Lynch.”

Richard Campbell Gansey III spoke in hidden meanings, and it was never more apparent to Ronan than when he spoke his name. Ronan Lynch could mean, _behave._ Ronan Lynch could mean, _you marvellous thing, you._ Ronan Lynch could mean, _I’m sorry._ This time, it meant _it’s been so long, I’ve missed you, I can’t believe you’re here._

“Dick,” he replied, feeling a smirk work its way onto his face as he stood. His anxiety began to dissipate and he was struck by how much he had missed his friend and all his Gansey-ness.

Gansey suited twenty-four more than he had suited eighteen. He was always older than his years and it seemed his appearance was only now catching up with his mind. Still shorter than Ronan and still carrying himself higher than Ronan ever could, he was the boy he once knew and more. He was broader now, his hair slightly longer so it flicked at the top rims of his glasses. His shirt was impeccably white and he still wore those hideous boat shoes and Ronan was unable to take in anymore, as he was pulled into a hug.

His friend’s arms were tight around him, probably crumpling his shirt. How very unrefined, how very unlike Richard Campbell Gansey III. Ronan grinned.

"Don’t cry, Dick, we’ll both look like losers,” he chided.

Gansey did indeed look teary as he relinquished his hold, a hand coming up to swipe at the bottom of his glasses, but his smile was too wide for Ronan to be too concerned.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Blue stepped around Gansey, hands placed firmly on her hips, and at once Ronan was happy to see her.

If twenty-six suited Gansey, New York suited Blue. She wore a fringe waist coat, a turquoise woollen dress underneath and yellow tights, held in her hand a red newsboy hat she must have taken off when she came inside, to reveal her choppy, dark hair, cut inches shorter than when Ronan last saw her. Her face was slimmer, more angular and elegant in a way she wasn’t at eighteen.

“Sorry, didn’t see you down there,” he teased, ruffling her hair.

“Shithead,” she replied, fondly.

“Maggot,” he said, equally fond.

They sat at the booth and Gansey talked a mile a minute. He apologised for being late – which they weren’t, Ronan had just arrived early after coming straight from the airport – and told him he had gotten held up at the museum he was working at while he got his PhD in Archaeology. Ronan already knew all this from his letters, but let Gansey waffle away while they waited. Blue told him she was working for an environmental charity currently, while making clothes to sell online – a gig that was becoming surprisingly more lucrative. He tried not to look at the proud glint in Gansey’s eyes as she talked, he was just about to eat.

“Noah and Henry will be here soon, they don’t know you’re coming, we thought it would be a nice surprise-”

" _He_ thought it would be nice,” Blue corrected.

“Well, yes, okay that was me. Noah is on his way back from an audition and Henry’s office is just down the block from it so they’ll walk together. Adam’s shift at the lab finishes a little later, but he’s coming straight after-”

Ronan stopped listening. Not a conscious choice, but he couldn’t help it. He heard the ocean, not Gansey’s voice or the crowded restaurant around them.

Adam. Adam Parrish would be here.

As far as break ups go, theirs could have gone better. In fact, he didn’t think it was dramatic to say that it couldn’t have gone worse. It was a disaster, a car wreck, it was Adam going to college and Ronan running to Ireland and each of them not speaking for six years. It was Ronan ending things two days before Adam left for Yale and Adam begging him to explain. It was bad, all in all.

And now he would see him. In person. For the first time in six years. The anxiety settled heavy in his gut again. Then he back tracked.

“They don’t know I’m here?” He asked, interrupting whatever Gansey had been saying.

“No, I imagine it’ll be quite a shock when-”

“Does he know?”

It didn’t need to be said which _he_ he was referring to. The answer didn’t even need to be said, the glance the couple in front of him exchanged was answer enough. Blue glared at Gansey.

“No, but-”

“Dick,” Ronan said, and it meant _how fucking could you_ , he was already standing to leave when Gansey tugged him back into the booth by his shirt sleeve.

“It’s been years, Ronan,” he said, as if he wasn’t well aware of the time he had spent avoiding this. “He won’t be angry, he’s over it.” There was a stab of pain somewhere in Ronan’s chest, probably a lung because it felt a little harder to breath. It was definitely not his heart. “He’s matured, and Jesus, so have you. Look at you.”

Ronan didn’t know what he meant, so he just sat back down. Blue’s hand found his shoulder.

“I get it, I think he should have given him some warning too, but he’s not just gonna walk out. He’s gonna be happy to see you, I know it.” Blue gave him a reassuring smile. Then, under her breath. “And if it goes badly, I know a place round the block that does two tequila shots for six dollars.”

“He’s paying,” he said, jerking a thumb at Gansey.

 

***

 

Noah cried when he and Cheng turned up, wrapping his arms around Ronan in more of an attack than a hug. Ronan swallowed the guilt that coursed through him, knowing he should have sent Noah more than a few emails every month, but at that moment Noah didn’t seem to mind, attaching himself to Ronan’s side, rearranging places so he could sit between Blue and himself. Ronan had somehow ended up at the end seat, opposite Cheng at the other side of the table. They had fist bumped across the salt and pepper shakers and napkins.

They settled into an easy conversation, Noah talked about his audition and told Ronan of how theatre had been his calling and he had been too blind to see it before. Henry told him that his work was boring but he was in charge and he got to travel, so that was enough for him.

“So, tell us, Lynch,” Cheng began, leaning forwards across the table. “How is the Irish agriculture going?”

“Oh, fuck off, Chcng,” Ronan replied, but he didn’t mind. There were worse things to talk about. “It’s not bad. It’s boring, dairy cows aren’t exciting.”

“Your photography, now that’s exciting,” Blue chimed in, cupping her face between her hands as she rested her elbows on the table.”

“Oh, you can fuck off too, Sargent.” Of course, Gansey would show her every picture.

“You’re a photographer?” Noah gaped at him.

“Not really,” he reached up to rub at his buzz cut. Some things hadn’t changed. “I take photographs. If that makes me a photographer.”

“He sells them too, don’t be coy-”

Blue didn’t get to finish embarrassing him. Or maybe she had, and Ronan hadn’t noticed, because he was watching as Adam Parrish made his way through to the back booth.

There was still time to run, he reminded himself, only there wasn’t really. Because in order to run, the way his mind was telling him to, he would have to go barrelling straight past Adam, and he knew too damn well already that he would be caught in his orbit if he got any closer. He would be stuck, unable to move away from the man even if he tried.

Adam was breath-taking, in too many senses. He was still gorgeous, that hadn’t changed. Only now his boyish features were sharper, a firmer jaw, he was no longer skinny but lean, his pale blue button up tight across his chest, his dusty brown hair still curled slightly by his ears. There was a line of stubble across his face that Ronan had never seen and suddenly he ached with how much he had missed. That was what stole his breath most. Realising that the man reaching their booth was a different person to the boy he had left behind.

“Sorry I’m late, I hadn’t realised the time and…” Adam trailed off.

Ronan watched, heart seized mid-beat, as Adam’s gaze went from friend to friend, reading – no, analysing, this was Adam – their expressions. He knew something was off, and then his eyes settled on Ronan.

Everything stopped.

Did he still hate him? Would he be angry? Would the shouting match they had left on resume in this diner years later?

“Lynch.”

And Ronan didn’t know what it meant. It was all at once an acknowledgement, a question, an exclamation and Ronan needed someone to translate, he hadn’t needed that before. He watched as Adam’s mouth said his name, a familiarity there that seemed to even surprise Adam, like it had been waiting there, on the tip of his tongue all this time.

Suddenly everyone was standing, and Ronan’s legs followed without his permission. He caught himself.

“Parrish.”

He gave a curt nod. That felt safe.

Then the unexpected happened. It was impossible not to feel the eyes of their friends on them, but then Adam had closed the gap between them and was embracing him and that was all there was.

This wasn’t Gansey’s relieved hug, nor Noah’s bone crushing one. This was Adam acting without thinking, arms around Ronan before he could tell himself otherwise, and then as the realisation hit, arms became tentative hands, then hesitant fingers as Ronan couldn’t will his arms to return the hug. Adam pulled away, uncertainty, confusion, all clear in his face. He let go and cleared his throat, and then a mask was drawn over his features again.

“Wow,” he shook his head and blinked, as if Ronan would disappear once he opened them. Adam couldn’t find the words he wanted. Or maybe they had, and they weren’t appropriate for a dinner setting. His smile was tight. “Can’t believe Gansey finally dragged you out here.”  

“I was just so bored of the begging,” he joked, but no one laughed.

He had hugged him, Ronan could still feel the trace of his fingertips lingering on his shoulder blades. It almost stung. There was no shouting, and all in all it was a start. A good start.

But it wasn’t – there was nothing to start. Ronan would be out of here in a week, he reminded himself.

After Adam had hugged and greeted everyone else, Gansey moved round to make space for him at the increasingly claustrophobic table, then Adam paused, eyes a little wider.

“Oh, it slipped my mind. I invited Stephanie.”

Stephanie. That was it. Ronan knew something about this was going too well.

He knew Stephanie. Well, not knew, he knew of her, which in the days of social media was basically the same thing. While he didn’t use his phone for useful things, like messaging friends and family, he used it for the same thing every millennial did: to stalk his ex online.

It worked quite well, really. He watched from a safe distance as Adam succeeded, as he got his degree, his internship, and eventually his girlfriend. Nowhere would have been a safe distance to witness that. For a little while, he stomached it. Flicked past their cute selfies, or posts about their day. They weren’t particularly fond of sharing, but it still grew to be too much. One day he saw a picture Adam uploaded of him and Stephanie on a trip in Seattle and he looked so happy. He had deleted Adam from every app and profile after that – told himself it was better this way, healthier this way.

That had been two years ago. He tried not to let the fact they were still together bother him.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not a problem,” Gansey signalled for a waiter.

While they organised another place at the table, Ronan desperately avoided Blue’s eyes, he could feel them on him anyway. Of course, she knew. He was going to hold her to that tequila.

Stephanie arrived a few minutes later, and Ronan was disappointed to see that she was, by all appearances, a sweet girl. She wore her hair long, it was only a shade darker than Adam’s, and when she smiled at the group, it pressed her eyes into thin, happy lines. She glanced at Adam, obviously nervous at the somewhat rowdy group of her boyfriend’s friends.

“Steph, this is Ronan Lynch.” It was the only introduction, he realised she must have met all the others at some point before. There was a moment, a verbal exchange between the couple where Stephanie raised an eyebrow, and worked out exactly how she was supposed to act now.

“Oh, the Ronan Lynch! I’ve heard a lot about you.”  

Ronan looked pointedly at Adam, who averted his gaze. There was a pinch in his chest when it landed on Stephanie instead, soft in a way that Ronan knew long ago.

“Lynch, this is Stephanie Burton.” Ronan watched as her hand slid into his. “My fiancée.”

 

***

 

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur. Ronan answered when appropriate, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about that. He was always quiet, only spoke when necessary: to answer questions, to side with Blue, to make fun of Gansey.

 He wanted to be cool, so he avoided looking at Adam when possible, which was whenever he wasn’t laughing or something as equally attractive – like existing. He completely avoided looking at Stephanie, knowing he would begin scrutinizing in such an unpleasant way, he hadn’t felt something as sour in himself for a long time. He didn’t want to engage it, fearing it would nurture it and bitterness would flower in him again, after so long of digging up roots.

The couple couldn’t be avoided entirely, however, he still heard how they had met – she was a lab technician at his internship – and how they lived together – a sweet little one bedroom they had found after months of searching – and all the little details Ronan didn’t want to hear.

He thanked his lucky stars for Blue, who diverted the conversation whenever it steered towards Adam and Stephanie, sometimes obviously so. He cursed her, however, for changing the subject by asking him a question every time. Yes, his dog was doing well. Yes, Ireland was very nice. Yes, you can come and visit. It was helpful, but was also distracting him from processing one very important thing.

Adam was getting married. When had that happened?

Gansey had failed to mention it. There was a storm brewing inside himself, he just wished he had been able to try and wrap his head around the idea while an ocean away, not sat across a restaurant table.

After they had finished eating, it was decided that they would carry on to a bar, in order to talk and hang out some more. A firm look at Blue ensured that it would be the place with the tequila. Stephanie ducked out, as she had an early start the next morning. Ronan knew he was supposed to look disappointed when they said their goodbyes, but could only manage a blank expression – hopefully it wasn’t unusual for him.

“It was nice to meet you, Ronan,” she said, touching his shoulder lightly. Teenaged Ronan would have shrugged her off already, but right now he was grimacing through it.

“Yeah, you too.” He patted her on the arm, quickly, and then stepped back.

“I can see why everyone here talks about you so much,” and God, why did she have to be so nice. “I hope I get to see you again before you leave!”

He hoped she didn’t, he really hoped she didn’t. He couldn’t help but be an asshole, apparently it was in his nature.

The six walked along the street and for once, Gansey’s attempts to reconnect with their youth was almost successful.

Ronan ended up giving Blue a piggyback, with her shouting directions at the group from his height. Noah complained that he was to be carried next. Henry offered but fell immediately. Gansey grinned and Adam covered his face with a hand. Eventually, Blue was settled firmly back on the ground and ran ahead to catch up with Noah, while Henry and Gansey walked side by side, Ronan found himself beside Adam – as if there was any other place he was supposed to be in this dynamic.

They walked in as much silence as New York City would allow, listening to their friends, the traffic, the strangers passing by them. Ronan caved.

“So,” he stuck his hands into his pockets, “fiancée, huh?”

He hated himself the moment the words left his mouth.

“Yeah,” Adam nodded, eyes ahead. “That’s a thing.”

“That’s a thing,” Ronan agreed. This was terrible.

At that moment, walking the streets of New York and longing for the country lanes of Ireland, he realised he was being graced with an opportunity he had only dreamt about before. Adam was over him – that hurt, because it only solidified it was not normal to still be in love with your high school sweetheart from years ago. But, it also meant that he had another chance, possibly, to be his friend again. As much as a friend as he could be, from the safety of across the sea.

He had a chance to get him back, in one way at least. It just required some bravery.

“Listen,” he spoke without knowing what word would follow next. “Are we good? Do we need to talk?”

Eloquent, Lynch. Nice going.

Adam stopped walking, leaving Ronan to stumble to a stop after him. His eyes bore into Ronan’s and he felt himself being at first questioned, then evaluated. Adam’s brow furrowed as the cogs whirred in his head. At one point, Ronan could have guessed what was going on in there. Now he felt blind.

“Yeah, Lynch, we’re good,” but he said the word good as if he wanted to laugh at it.

“Sounds it,” he rolled his eyes.  

Adam sighed and started walking again. “It was years ago. Ancient history.” He summoned a smile, but Ronan knew that trick. “We’re good.”

And well – that was enough for Ronan. He didn’t want to press, didn’t want to shout at each other like they used to, didn’t want to spend his week in the city repeating all his past mistakes, even if he knew Adam was being far from genuine.

“Well, then you should know I’m happy for you.”

When Adam spoke, a little bit of his façade had dropped, and he sounded sincere. “You are?”

“Yeah, man. Look at all you’ve got going on. You’re doing great.” He closed his eyes, knowing that wasn’t what needed to be said. “I’m happy you found someone. Stephanie – she’s great.”

“Don’t choke, Lynch,” Adam smirked, and Ronan’s heart eased up a bit. “But she is. She is great, too good for me.”

“Bullshit.” It was an immediate response. He tried to cover his tracks. “And even if it wasn’t, who cares? You can’t think of every good thing that happens as something you do or don’t deserve. Don’t look a blind horse in the mouth, or whatever the fuck it is.” This was hypocrisy at its finest.

Adam laughed. Even though it was slightly bitter, it made Ronan remember all the shit he would do for that laugh back when they were teens. He would still do most of it now, he thought.

“Gift,” he corrected. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Well, there you go.” Ronan flicked his hands. “Stephanie’s a pretty good horse.”

“Yeah, I suppose she is. And you? Is there anyone?”

Ronan didn’t answer. _No. There’s not been anyone serious, no one longer than a month, it’s not fair on them when all I’ve ever done is compare people to you._ He could say this. He could lie, say there was, see how Adam would react.

“This is it!” Blue shouted, from the front of their pack. They had reached the bar. Ronan took another look at Adam, waiting patiently for him to answer, before using this as an excuse to slip away, leaving it unanswered.

 

***

 

Inside, Ronan headed straight to the bar, Blue and Gansey hot on his trail.

“That went quite well, I feel,” Gansey said. God, he wanted to hit him.

“Dick, what the fuck,” Ronan said with as much ferocity he could manage, while appearing completely fine to anyone out of earshot. He cast a glance back to their table. Adam was listening to Noah tell a particularly animated story.

“What?” Gansey feigned innocence, even Blue rolled her eyes. She started ordering.

“You didn’t think to mention that he’s getting…” Getting married. He couldn’t say it out loud yet. “That Stephanie’s his fiancée?”

He watched as Gansey took a sharp breath, swallowed it down. There was something too close to pity in his face.

“I thought you were over him?” Gansey tilted his head, only a fraction. He sounded surprised.

“I am,” he lied, immediately. “It was years ago, it’s just-” a shock, a punch, a twist of the knife that was this visit. “I would have just liked to have known. Jesus, you tell me when you get new socks or when Blue sells something, I would have liked to have known my friend’s engaged.”

“Is he?” Gansey’s eyebrows arched slightly. “Your friend, I mean?”

Ronan blanked. No, he wasn’t. They hadn’t spoken since, they were anything but friends. They were acquaintances, maybe. Exes. Something from long ago, Adam Parrish was someone he didn’t know anymore and the thought make him sick.

“Fuck off, Dick.”

He barrelled past him, towards the exit of the bar, hoping some fresh air would bring him back to his senses. Guilt hit him the moment the cold night air did. Who goes to New York in November? It was fucking cold. He scrunched up his shoulders, using the hands in his pockets to pull his leather jacket closer to him. Why had he done that?

Gansey meant well. He always meant well. Putting it into action was something different, of course, but his friend always started with good intentions. Not telling him about Adam was done out of nothing but care– because of course he knew it would hurt him, even if he really believed Ronan was over him.

He had only managed to remove his hands and light a cigarette, take two long drags, before the door to the bar opened.

“Don’t let Gansey catch you smoking,” said Blue as she appeared beside him.

“Fuck, I can already imagine the disapproval.”

Blue scrunched her face, her eyebrows pinching in a way that was, surprisingly, uncannily like Gansey.

“That’s pretty good,” Ronan barked a laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

“Tell me about it,” she rolled her eyes, but there was a smile gathering just in the corner of her mouth. “You coming back? I can give you the keys to the apartment if you’d rather head home.”

“What’s she like?” he asked, instead of answering. He put the cigarette to his lips. Blue saw his bullshit from a mile radius, and didn’t need to be told who he meant.

“She’s nice,” she said, far too pleasantly. Ronan pulled a face. “She’s too nice. One of those people that make you feel worse about yourself every time you have a conversation, and you’re just waiting to find out she has a dark side. Like she kicks puppies or something. I’m starting to think she actually doesn’t have one though.”

“Jesus,” was all Ronan said.

“She makes him happy though,” Blue was staring out at the traffic passing. “That’s what’s important, right?”

Ronan took a long drag and stubbed the butt against the bar wall, before releasing any of the smoke. “Right,” he said around it. “C’mon, bet Dick is getting twitchy.”

 

***

 

Blue had given him tequila as promised and Ronan felt considerably more relaxed after that, only nursing a beer for the rest of the evening. At some point, he ended up between Blue and Adam.

“I can’t believe you’re a photographer,” said Noah.

Adam took a sip of his beer, his long fingers wrapped around the belly of the bottle. Ronan absolutely did not think about putting them to his lips.

“I wish you people would stop saying that,” he muttered. “I take photos, I sell some. That doesn’t make it a thing.”

“That sounds like a thing to me,” Noah replied. “Do you have any you can show me?”

“I do!” Gansey chimed in, Ronan hadn’t been aware he had been listening. He fished out his phone and tapped and scrolled and then Ronan was looking at his own farm, in miniature on Gansey’s screen. “They’re good, aren’t they? I don’t know much about photography, but I think they’re rather excellent.”

“Oh, those are good,” Henry was leaning to get a better view. Ronan tried not to be offended by the tone of surprise. Gansey flicked his finger across the screen and then the group were looking at his kitchen in black and white, sunlight filtering through an open window.

They continued to ooh and aww at whatever photograph came up next. A sheep. Matthew laughing. His dog, an Alsatian named Rogue. He felt Adam closer at his side.

“What’s Ireland like?” Adam asked, his voice dry, the others not listening. Ronan felt his knee brush against Adam’s thigh for a split second, and whatever witty retort he had begun to conjure died in his mouth.

“Green,” he risked a glance at Adam. His eyes were piercing. His freckles still prominent, dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Beautiful. Fuck, magical. You’d love it.”

That was an assumption, of course. The Adam he used to know would have loved it. Maybe this new Adam only wanted to vacation in the Bahamas and or Fiji.

Adam’s gaze drifted back to Gansey’s phone. It was a shot of one of his fields, dark clouds swirling above, menacingly. “I probably would.” 

Eventually, it grew to be too late. They said goodbye, with the promise of dinner at Gansey’s later in the week. It took a while to prise Noah from Ronan after his goodbye hug, but finally he followed Henry down the street.

Unlike when they had first reunited, Adam didn’t part with a hug. Instead, he lifted his hand to wave, already stepping backwards, away from him.

“See you, Lynch,” he said, before turning in the other direction and disappearing from view.

This trip was going to kill him, Ronan decided.

 

***

 

If the pain of seeing Adam again, which stung like a bitch with or without Stephanie in the picture, wasn’t going to kill him, the pain of sleeping on Gansey and Blue’s lumpy couch was going to have its best go at it. It made his shoulders ache in all the worst places, and it was only worsened by following Gansey around the city, to see whatever tourist trap he had lined up for that day.

It could have been worse though. They avoided serious topics after the first night, and Ronan was happy to listen to Gansey ramble on about the history of the city or whatever he was working on. He didn’t realise he had missed this. He made a mental note to try harder with his phone – if only because he knew Dick missed this too.

As they were all adults now, a fact that still surprised Ronan some days, with jobs and meetings and lives, Ronan’s tour guides changed daily. Most of the time it was Gansey, who had wrangled time off for his visit, accompanied by Noah or Blue. Henry had joined them when he been dragged to see the Statue of Liberty. Adam made no appearance – until the night of the dinner party.

Gansey and Blue’s apartment was perfect for hosting, once Gansey had removed all his work materials from the coffee table where they had been piling. With high ceilings, an adjoined kitchen and lounge, and a large wooden table, usually holding Blue’s sewing machine, it would easily accommodate the seven of them. Seven, because Stephanie was invited. It was an odd number, Ronan didn’t like it. Six was good. That had nothing to do with who the seventh was, of course.

“Did you pick up that bottle of wine, Jane?”

“Yes, you already asked me an hour ago. It’s in the fridge, because you said it had to be served cold.”

Blue flopped onto the couch besides Ronan, who had decided it would be better if he didn’t help cook. Gansey was making Thai food, an authentic recipe he had been given while they were travelling. It smelt good at least, but that didn’t stop Gansey from fussing. He would ask why he was nervous, it was only his friends, ones he had known forever. But Ronan knew that he just wanted this evening to go well. He only had two days left of his trip.

Noah arrived first, and Ronan was there to get the door while Gansey fussed and Blue set the table. He shucked his rain coat, well needed as it was soaked, Ronan hadn’t even realised it was raining. When Henry arrived, he was better prepared, propping an umbrella against the wall of the coat rack. It had succeeded in keeping his suit pristine and his hair tall and perfectly spiked. He had brought more wine, and a six pack. Ronan could have kissed him.

The next time the door buzzed, Ronan felt his stomach drop, knowing who was left to arrive. Noah was in the bathroom, Henry tasting Gansey’s cooking, and Blue was hastily opening the first bottle of wine. It was up to him to answer again.

He was unprepared for when he did. Adam had been caught short in the rain, his jacket shoulders darker from taking the brunt of the weather. Rain drops were still collecting at the tips of his dusty hair. One rolled of, onto his cheek and Ronan watched it roll down to touch the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice tight. He stepped aside so Adam could enter, pulling Stephanie in behind him.

“Hi Ronan,” she beamed, swiping at wet strands of hair that stuck to her face. Fortunately, once he took her coat, it was only her hair that was damp, and the sweet heart purple dress she wore, that hugged her petite waist, was completely fine.

He was making an effort, he reminded himself. It would be an effort. “I’ll get you guys some towels.”

Adam nodded and Stephanie began to thank him, but he was already heading towards the bathroom.

“Are you hiding already?” Noah asked, stepping out as Ronan arrived.

“Shut up,” he bit, no real venom in his voice. Noah put up his hands, eyes innocently wide, but the tilt in the corner of his mouth was devilish. “The rain fucked them over. I’m getting towels. I’m behaving.”

"You really have grown up,” Noah teased. Ronan gave him a shove, before grabbing two clean towels from the cupboard. He didn’t leave while he searched, and as he began to make his way back to the party, Noah stopped him. “Did you miss me? Or – do you miss me, I guess is more accurate. When you’re in Ireland, do you miss us? This?” He nodded in the direction of the group.

Ronan wished the question didn’t hurt, but it made his chest tighten like a vice for two reasons. For one, he was a lousy, terrible friend. Running from Adam, from Henrietta, hadn’t just hurt him or Adam, but everyone that was here. Why didn’t they hate him for it? Secondly, it hit the nail on the head of the truth he had been avoiding all week. He did miss them, all of them, dearly. He never entertained the idea before, telling himself it was better this way.

“Every day, Noah,” he said, honestly.

Noah didn’t reply, instead studying his face. He had forgotten how perceptive Noah was. Now twenty-four, he wasn’t the kid he had left behind but he wasn’t foreign to Ronan either. He felt like he still knew him, and knew Noah could still see the Ronan he knew too. He knew how much missing them pained him.

“Okay then,” he nodded, squeezing Ronan’s shoulder lightly and following him back into the main room.

Stephanie was sitting on the couch, Adam perched on the arm of it besides her, watching as Gansey bustled through the kitchen. Noah threw himself into an arm chair, lifting his feet to put on them on the coffee table.

“Here,” Ronan passed the towels to Adam, not meaning to brush fingers but pulling away like he had been shocked when they did so. Adam gave one to Stephanie, draping it across her shoulders. It was such an absent act of care that it made Ronan flinch. “Henry, I’m having one of those beers.”

“Bought them for you, buddy.” Henry clapped a hand on his shoulder when he got to the kitchen portion of the room. He leaned closer, so that the others wouldn’t hear. “Hell, I’d need them if I were you.”

           

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful, the only interesting discovery being that Gansey had actually learnt to cook in the time they had been apart. The meals in the week so far had consisted of eating at hole in the wall restaurants Blue had found, and eating take out on the living room floor, but the food Gansey cooked for them all way actually great – Noah said as much, around a full mouth.

After everyone was full, fit to burst as Gansey’s only culinary flaw was portion control, they moved into the lounge portion of the room to drape themselves across furniture and complain about feeling bloated. Gansey lurked behind collecting dishes, and was soon joined by Stephanie, who smiled as she stacked them. Ronan caught Blue’s eye, and after checking no one was watching, she mouthed _: too nice._ He snorted, and then coughed to cover it.

Once joined by the other two, the group settled into easy conversation and everything was almost as it should have been – almost because Ronan noticed he and Adam never directly spoke to each other. Around each other, within the same conversation but never clearly addressing the other, they danced like this all evening. It made him nauseous. It made him excuse himself, to grab another can and crack it open to take a swig before returning to the group.

 He almost walked straight out again, when he realised to conversation had turned to the wedding.

“Have you picked a venue?” Henry asked, sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. “I have connections at a few places downtown if you were interested – nice places, all very elegant.”

“We’ve been to see a couple of places,” Stephanie said, touching Adam’s knee lightly. Adam nodded. “But that would really be fantastic, if you wouldn’t mind. They sound perfect, exactly what we’re looking for.”

Ronan had to stop himself from scoffing. Adam Parrish shouldn’t be getting married in downtown New York. He should be getting married somewhere outside, somewhere with a forest or an ocean, somewhere with a view.

“What about you two? Planning to tie the knot soon?” It took everyone a moment to realise Stephanie was talking to Blue and Gansey. Gansey choked on his wine.

“Marriage is a social construct, designed by the patriarchy,” Blue spoke with a straight face until she realised who she was talking to, “is my personal opinion, but it’s great, for most people, obviously, because most people get married and that is a wonderful thing to do.” She forced a smile.

It was too much for Ronan. The first bark of laughter slipped out as a noisy, abrasive thing and the ones that followed were similar. Eventually there were tears in his eyes, and when he looked around the room Gansey was also chuckling. Even Adam was smiling, while he shook his head. Stephanie was bemused, but smiled nonetheless.

“Sargent, please never change,” Ronan urged, aware that it probably wasn’t even that funny, but he felt lighter afterwards.

“I never intend to,” Blue grinned.

“I only ask because it’s been a while right?” Steph checked. “You’ve been together since you were teens?”

Blue nodded, Gansey looping his hand through hers. “Yes, really it’s been Jane since the day I met her.”

Ronan gagged, Noah followed suit.

“That must have been awkward,” Stephanie said, and then when she saw the looks of confusion around the room. “Because Adam, he told me you two dated when you were younger.”

Suddenly, Ronan was at attention again. This was a dangerous topic, Adam’s exes.

“Barely,” Adam remarked, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“How dare you diminish what we had,” Blue put a hand to her heart to feign offense.

“It sounded like quite the high school crush to me – he bought you flowers, right?” Stephanie was teasing Adam, and while Adam smiled graciously, on the inside Ronan knew he was dying for the topic to be changed.

“He did,” Blue reminisced. “Why don’t you buy me flowers?” She elbowed her boyfriend.

“You guys must have heard enough about that at the time, though,” Stephanie added. To his horror, she turned to Ronan. “What was he like? A love sick puppy, I bet?”

Ronan seemed to go through multiple emotional stages in the matter of seconds. At first, he was sure she was mocking him, throwing it all in his face as if Adam pining after Blue hadn’t been enough back then, as if to be seated next to his fiancée now really needed salt in the wound. Then, he thought perhaps she meant when they were together, which was bold to say the least. No one had mentioned Adam and Ronan, the way they had ended and the way they had been before then, like Adam had said, it was ancient history, and to address it like this was risky.

And then Ronan realised, when his eyes landed on Adam who was looking at him blankly, a closed book, merely waiting for whatever was about to unfold: she didn’t know. No, Adam hadn’t told her. She had no idea that they had dated. That Adam, once upon a time, had told Ronan he loved him.

“The sickest,” Ronan agreed, not taking his eyes from Adam.

Adam stood. “Sorry, I’ve got a headache coming on, I think I just need some air for a second.” He walked out of the apartment.

It was torture, waiting what seemed like a reasonable time to announce he needed a smoke, Gansey’s disapproval be damned, and before making his way outside to find him. It wasn’t as if anybody in that apartment didn’t know where he was going.

He followed the stairs, down one flight, two, a third, until he stumbled out onto the street, forgetting his speed in favour of acting casual. Outside it was no longer raining, but the pavement has a sheen to it that told him it hadn’t stopped long ago. He couldn’t see Adam, so he took out a cigarette and lit up. Before this trip he had nearly quit, he hated to admit that there was instant relief the moment he inhaled. He’d have to work on that again.

“Nasty habit,” Adam chided, his voice seemingly appearing from nowhere.

Ronan turned and saw Adam leaning against the side of the apartment building, he must have walked right past him. His arms were folded across his body, shielding himself from the cold.

“I’ve had worse,” Ronan said.

They looked at each other, and Ronan wondered if Adam was thinking the same thing: how did we end up here? He supposed not, after all, without Ronan’s visit, Adam’s life would still be perfect. Perfect job, perfect apartment, perfect girlfriend – no, fiancée. And while Ronan liked his farm, he liked his cottage, he didn’t want a relationship, it all felt hollow.

Above all, Ronan prized honesty. The times he realised he wasn’t been being honest with himself, they never ended well. His anger at himself made him reckless, just like when he was a teenager. He could feel the urge to scratch, to pick, to push at things, to see how far things would go.

“She doesn’t know about us, does she?” He asked bluntly, putting the cigarette to his mouth, mainly for something to do with his hands, to act like the fact he had to ask didn’t tear him up.

“What’s to know,” Adam retorted.

“Don’t bullshit me, Parrish,” Ronan groaned. “Your fiancée up there, doesn’t know that we-” he cursed himself for not thinking of a word before-hand. Dated was too casual, Ronan didn’t do casual. “-that we were together.”

“Frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“Just admit it, say you didn’t tell her,” Ronan pushed. He flicked the cigarette to the ground, smothering it with his heavy boot.

“No, I haven’t told her. Happy, Lynch?” Adam’s temper was rising, and it was only dangerous in the sense than Ronan was taking a torch to whatever loose ties were still between them.

“Jesus, that’s fucked, Parrish,” Ronan laughed and it tasted bitter in his mouth. “What, you’re marrying that girl, past relationships never came up in conversation? Oh wait, it did, because you told her about Blue.”

Ronan knew he was being nasty, and he knew it was because he was scared. What if Adam hadn’t mentioned it because, to him, it wasn’t worth it? What if it hadn’t meant as much to Adam as the years went on? He could see he was pissing Adam off, but with this fear, this hurt, boiling beneath his surface, he couldn’t let it go.

“Does she even know you like boys, Adam?” And there was nothing kind about it. The regret was immediate.

Adam stared at him, his eyes light but everything behind them dark. “Fuck you, Lynch,” he spat.

“I’m sorry-” Ronan began, knowing he meant it but Adam wasn’t going to spare him.

“No,” Adam stepped towards him. He jabbed him with his index finger, square in the chest. “No, you started this, you don’t get to call it off, you don’t get to decide anything anymore.”

Bile was rising in Ronan’s mouth, he hadn’t wanted to fight. Why did he always have to push?

“Steph knows I’m bisexual, she knows me. That’s why I asked her to marry me. Don’t you dare insinuate I’m ashamed of anything. She doesn’t know about us because I was done talking about it, I was done feeling it and I was finished with you. And then she knew about you because you’re in all the photos, and you’re in all the stories, and Gansey can’t seem to shut up about you, and his delusion about how fucking brilliant you are. I didn’t want her to compare herself or anything like that, so I told her we were friends and we had an argument – which wasn’t a lie, seeing as that’s so important to you.”

Mistakenly, Ronan thought he was done, because his voice grew quieter, but he was wrong. He should have recognised this silent rage.

“But I didn’t need to tell you that, I don’t owe you anything.” Adam closed his eyes, paused as if he was counting. “Who do you think you are? To come back after all this time, and judge me? For how I’ve dealt with what you broke?”

_What he broke._

Adam dragged his eyes along Ronan, disdain so evident in the curvature of his mouth.

“You haven’t changed at all, Ronan. Still as selfish as the day you left me.” _No_ , Ronan thought, _you were leaving_. It wasn’t selfish, it was self-preservation. “I’m done here.”

Then he was walking away, back into the apartment, leaving Ronan to trail after him, calling his name. “Parrish. _Parrish_.”

It was no use, Adam continued to storm back to Gansey and Blue’s door, banging on it with his fist. When Gansey answered, Adam brushed past him. Ronan followed, ignoring Gansey staring that them.

“Steph, we’re leaving,” Adam was grabbing his jacket. He stalked across the room and pressed a rushed kiss to Blue’s cheek, then back towards the door to squeeze Gansey’s arm. “Thanks for dinner, I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer,” he didn’t sound sorry at all, sweeping out of the door without so much as a look back.

Stephanie, bewildered, gathered her things and hugged each of them in turn, throwing looks around the members of the room to ask what exactly had happened. When she stopped in front of Ronan, her brow furrowed and he could feel the scrutiny he was under. She wasn’t a tall woman, taller than Blue but that wasn’t saying much, and yet as she stared at him, Ronan felt alarmingly small. Probably because it was so obviously his fault. She said goodnight, and followed her fiancé.

A silence settled across the room as Gansey shut the door. One by one, each head turned to stare at Ronan. Henry and Noah looked glum, obviously disappointed that their evening had been cut short, and that the atmosphere had turned heavy following Adam’s dramatic exit. Blue’s expression was hard to read, and the moment he recognised pity as one of the prominent features, he turned away. That was a mistake, because Gansey looked pissed.

“What?” He barked. Blue raised a single eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. I fucked up.”

 

***

 

“Why are you so incapable of having a good time?” Gansey was washing dishes, which was an odd thing to see while he was shouting at him. “No, why are you so incapable of letting anyone else have a good time? Is it really so hard to let things be?”

_Yes_ , Ronan thought. “It wasn’t like that, Dick,” he said.

Noah and Henry had left when Gansey excused himself, when Ronan had followed and the bickering had started. Blue was sitting in the lounge, reading a magazine.

“Oh really?” Gansey dropped a dish back into the sudsy water. Foam splattered against the counter and his shirt. “What was it like then, Ronan? By all means explain it to me.”

“Don’t act like I’m the one being unreasonable here, let’s not start pointing fingers about why tonight went so tits up.” He wanted to change the subject.

Gansey waved a wet hand, to gesture that the floor was his. Water dripped onto the kitchen tiles.

“You didn’t tell me Adam was getting married. You didn’t tell Adam I was going to be here.” Adam didn’t tell Stephanie he had once loved Ronan, but he was struggling to find a way to blame Gansey for that. “You expect us to just be dropped into this mess and play happy families? Expect Adam to sit around acting like he doesn’t hate my guts?”

“I’m sure Adam would be happy to be civil, for the sake of a week.”

“That’s so much bullshit, can’t you see how empty that would have made all this? Adam can pretend all he wants, I can’t.”

“We didn’t have the time, Ronan,” Gansey braced himself on the edge of the sink as he enunciated every word. He took a deep breath.

“What does that even mean?” He asked.

“You’re here for a week, that’s all we have! There’s only two days left of you here and I just wanted…” He failed to finish that sentence.

“Wanted what?”

Gansey squeeze his eyes shut, as if willing himself to say it. When he did, he pushed himself away from the counter. “To feel like I had you in my life again.”

He went into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Ronan felt like the biggest asshole. He sunk down on the sofa besides Blue, continuing to sink until his head was at her shoulder.

“I’ve fucked up big time here, haven’t I?”

“Oh yeah,” Blue agreed, nodding. She flicked to the next page of the magazine. “Big time.”

Minutes ticked by. Blue read. Ronan stared at the ceiling. Then he stared at the window. The turned off TV. He turned to Blue.

“Tell me how to make it better.”

“He’s just scared, Ronan.” She closed the magazine, shifting of the couch to face him, tucking her knees beneath her. “He thinks you’re gonna go home in two days time and it’ll be another six years until he sees you again.”

“It won’t be.”

“Won’t it?” She asked. “No judging, I don’t think anything about this visit would make me want to come back.”

“It’s not about me,” Ronan’s eyes drifted to the closed bedroom door. “I’ve never deserved half the shit he’s done for me.”

“No,” Blue agreed. “But then again, I don’t think I do either. Don’t tell him that. It’s just who he is. He doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. When he cares about you, it’s regardless of the bad stuff. And he cares about you.”

“I care about him,” Ronan wondered if he had said that aloud before.

“I know.” She picked up her magazine again. “Go show him that.”

Ronan stood, and he realised that God, he was tired. Jet lag was only beginning to wear off now it was almost time for him to leave. With aching legs, he walked to the door. He knocked three times.

“Not now, Ronan,” a muffled voice came from inside.

“Can’t wait, don’t have the time,” he called back, before opening the door anyway.

Blue and Gansey’s bedroom looked exactly as he had expected. Mint plants grew along the windowsill, books and papers littered the floor, articles of clothing that might have been trousers or shirts or perhaps scarfs, were strewn about, circling the large double bed in the middle of the room. Inside a heaped duvet, he could see the top of Gansey’s forehead. It had been a while since he shared a bed with his friend, despite how often it would happen when they were kids.

“Move over, you lump.” He pushed at the duvet heap, which shuffled across, giving Ronan room to lay down beside him, after toeing his boots off. Gansey didn’t emerge from the pile. “I’ll do better.”

“At what?”

“At playing nice with Adam, at letting things go and letting people have a good time.” Gansey hummed from inside the blankets. “Fine, don’t believe me. I’ll prove you wrong, I’ve got to now that I’m gonna be spending more time here.”

That worked the way Ronan wanted. A hand reached out from the covers, and dragged it down ever so slightly, so Ronan could see the top rim of his glasses. “Spending more time where?”

“In New York, dumbass.” Ronan rolled onto his back. “Or wherever you guys are, I guess. Doesn’t matter.”

Gansey sat up, covers falling away. “You’re coming back?”

Ronan smirked, allowing there to be a hint of smugness to it. “Couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I don’t believe you,” Gansey said warily, eyes narrowing as he loomed above Ronan.

“I don’t lie.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s bad for your soul, we’ve been over this-”

“Why are you coming back? Why now?” Gansey cut him off, uncertainty still apparent in his voice. He wasn’t wrapping his head around this, and Ronan knew he would have to spell it out for him – as painful as that might be.

“I’ve missed you guys,” he closed his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders. Nonchalant, he was aiming for. “Missed hanging out and stuff. I’ve missed you, Dick. And I’m sorry, for not being around like I should’ve been.”

There wasn’t a response, so he caved and opened an eye. Above him, Gansey was nearly smiling, eyes welling up behind his glasses. Ronan couldn’t believe that Gansey had cried twice this trip. He wondered if he’d cry when they said goodbye.

“I’m done running,” Ronan said, shocked by his own sincerity. “Adam,” he paused to think of what he wanted to say, “Adam deserves to be happy, and I’m not going to stand in the way of that. I’ll behave, I’ll be good, whatever. But I’m not going to disappear again.”

When had he changed his mind so fervently? He couldn’t pin point it. He didn’t want to miss his friends anymore. He didn’t want to wait in Ireland for Matthew to visit, or his mom to come over to feel like he wasn’t alone. He wanted his friends back.

“I won’t be able to make it back before Christmas,” he did the work in his head, of the time he would have to spend sorting the paperwork of the farm, taking some more photos despite not being a photographer. “But after-”

“New Years?” Gansey was nodding. “Will you spend New Years here?”

Ronan scrunched up his nose. “New Years in New York sounds like torture.”  

“Ronan.”

“Yes, alright, fine – I’ll be here for New Years. Happy?”

“Almost,” Gansey’s face turned solemn again, his eyes peering over the rim of his glasses. “You need to apologise to Adam.”

Ronan sat up this time. “Like fuck am I doing that.”

“Ronan.”

“No, Dick, no. He’s made it clear that he would rather just stay the fuck away from me.” _Can’t blame him,_ he thought.

“So, you’ll just avoid him every time you visit?”

“Yes?” Gansey’s face told him this was the wrong answer. “No, but I won’t apologise either. I’ll be on my best behaviour, okay?” They both knew that his best behaviour left much to be desired, but a promise was a promise. “Now c’mon, where’s your laptop, we’re watching that documentary you were going on about.”

“The one about the history of the London underground? Oh, you’ll love it, it’s so interesting. Did you know that-”

 

***

 

Ronan’s last full day in New York was spent saying goodbye to the city and its various occupants. They had lunch with Henry and dinner with Noah. They visited cafes and New York public library, they went to markets and food halls, and it was the cheeriest he had seen Gansey the entire trip – regardless of what had happened with Adam yesterday. Ronan understood though, in Gansey’s own words, he believed they had time now. To patch things up, to work things out. Ronan was unsure it would ever be that simple.

The next day was a slow one, he had a night flight, in an attempt to ride out the jet lag, if he managed to sleep the whole way home. So they spent the morning getting breakfast, and then returned to help Ronan pack – it wasn’t a long process, he hadn’t brought much. He tried to ignore the way Gansey grew quieter as the day wore on.

It was seven o’clock, an hour before he had to leave for the airport, when there was a knock on Blue and Gansey’s apartment door. Ronan didn’t bother moving from the couch when Gansey answered.

“Hi Gansey,” Ronan recognised the voice. “Is Ronan still around?”

He turned, looked over his shoulder, and saw Stephanie in the doorway. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her long, blue pea coat. She smiled when she saw Ronan, but it didn’t entirely reach her eyes.

“Hi, I was wondering if we could talk for a moment?” Sirens were sounding in Ronan’s head.

“Ronan has to leave in an hour,” Blue said, pleasantly, but he could see there was a warning in her eyes.

“That’s okay, this won’t take long,” Stephanie’s gaze didn’t leave Ronan, so he stood and walked towards her, following when she stepped out of the apartment. “Won’t be a moment!” She called back to the couple.

They didn’t go outside, but did shut the front door. Ronan had a mental image of Blue frantically looking through the peephole, desperate to see what was going on – he had a feeling he was in for a lashing. He would deserve it, he guessed, but resented it coming from Stephanie more than anyone.

She leaned against the stair railing, folding her hands into one another. She looked down the stairwell, her long hair falling forwards as she did so.

“I know you and Adam fought,” Ronan didn’t get the sense he was supposed to confirm that so he stayed silent. “I don’t know about what, I suppose it doesn’t matter – Adam will tell me when he’s ready, but right now he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Ronan was hardly listening, trying to keep emotions beneath the surface. Hearing Stephanie talk about Adam was almost as painful as seeing them together, knowing that by all evidence, she knew Adam better than him now – maybe better than he ever had.

“But he’s been miserable since we left that night, I don’t know what to do.” This caught Ronan’s attention. “He refuses to acknowledge it of course, but it’s like – like he’s not even there, I’ve only seen him like this a couple of times. And I can’t do anything about it.”

She turned to face Ronan while she spoke next, and there was determination set in her jaw. “But you can.”

Ronan did absolutely not like where this was going. “I don’t think there’s-”

She didn’t let him finish. “Just talk to him, patch it up.” God, was she giving him puppy dog eyes?

“I don’t think it’s that easy.” The words felt like a chore to ground out. She didn’t understand.

“Sure, it is, you say sorry, he says sorry. Hug and make up.” She flapped her hands, as if to say _voila_. “Or at least try.”

Ronan didn’t know what to say. “I leave in an hour.”

“Then call him!”

“I don’t do phone calls.”

“Ronan, please.” She reached for the sleeve of sweatshirt. It struck Ronan as something bold, and something that could be seen as intimate, if he hadn’t recognised the gesture for what it was: a plea. “You were friends once. There’s no reason you couldn’t be again.”

There were so many reasons, none of which Stephanie knew. But there didn’t seem to be a way out.

“Fuck! Fine, yes, fine. Jesus Christ.” He turned and slammed his hand against the apartment door to be let in. Blue opened it, peeking around to see what damage hand been done, and Ronan blew in past her. He grabbed his jacket. “We’re going out, I’ll be back in a sec.”

“But your flight-” Blue protested.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I won’t miss it.” And he was heading down the stairs, Stephanie hot on his trail. He came to a standstill once outside, unsure of where he was even going, but Stephanie wasn’t, blazing past him. She looked delighted as she led him towards Adam.

 

***

 

Adam and Stephanie’s apartment was only twenty minutes on the subway, and it made Ronan envious of the proximity his friends shared. Inside was more modern than Ronan had expected, the small space decked out with sleek counter tops and couches that looked like they were more for show than comfort. He wondered which of the pair had been in charge of decorating but couldn’t imagine it was Adam.

The man in question wasn’t home when they arrived, but Stephanie promised he’d be back from work soon. Ronan waited, anxiety pooling in his stomach as he walked through their kitchen. By the stove there were little potted herbs, thyme, rosemary, basil. He was almost positive they had been a gift from Blue or the psychics when he moved into the place – for luck or something stupid like that. But it was still the most Adam like thing about the apartment.

When the front door opened, Ronan wanted to bolt. But there was nowhere to go, so he leaned against the counter top, hands tucked into his jeans, one boot cross over the other and tried to look like someone who might belong in his world.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, I-”

Adam entered the apartment like a gush of air, breezing into his own space with a command that Ronan hadn’t seen in him before. He watched his freckled face go through a few stages of micro-expressions. When he walked through the door he was tense, New York city and a full day at work settled on his shoulders, and then it was gone, his body relaxed, he exhaled. He spoke. Then he saw Ronan and at once he summoned his guard again. Fire flickered behind blue eyes.

“Steph, what is this?” He turned to her, accusation in his voice.

She didn’t even let the door shut, resting her hand between it and the wall. “Talk,” she said, reaching on her tip toes to press a kiss to Adam’s cheek. Ronan couldn’t help but look away. Then, she slipped out of the door.

For a moment, neither spoke. Adam shrugged off his jacket and hung it across the back of a sofa. He took his briefcase and placed it on a desk in the corner of the room. He faced Ronan. Ronan felt his mouth go dry.

“She asked me to talk to you,” he said.

“I gathered that,” Adam began unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves up his arms afterwards. Ronan swallowed. “About what?”

“She wants us to make up,” Ronan was still leaning in the kitchen, there was a whole room between them. It felt safer than way.

It was one thing, he decided, longing for someone for years while on the other side of the world. Having them in front of you, was something different entirely. He decided he was wrong before, he still knew this Adam – not every part – but the way he was standing, looking at him now could have easily been six years ago. Back when Adam didn’t know how Ronan felt, hadn’t realised what he felt either, back when Adam didn’t understand him and they fought regularly. And just like back then, Ronan was longing to cross the room and – no, it wasn’t worth even imagining. He stayed where he was.

Adam shook his head, exasperated. “Of course she does.”

He sat down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, and then his head in his hands. Ronan waited but he didn’t say anything else.

“I don’t want to fight,” Ronan said.

“Bit late for that,” Adam laughed, humourlessly, into his hands.

“I’m gonna be around more,” when Ronan said this, Adam looked up. “Gansey – he deserves – I need make it up to him.” He paused. “I’ve missed him, hell – I’ve missed everyone.” Did he know that included him?

“So, what you’re saying is we need to get along, for Gansey’s sake? This _is_ just like old times,” Adam said, almost bitterly. Ronan walked past him and took the seat to his right, safety be damned.

“You have every right to hate me-” he wasn’t allowed to finish that sentence.

“I really thought I’d never see you again, y’know?” Adam faced him. “At first, when I heard you had moved to Ireland – Ireland of all places – I thought that, well, that it wasn’t the end. I’d still see you, when you visited, when you came back.”

“But I didn’t,” Ronan shut his eyes for a brief moment.

“But you didn’t,” Adam repeated, bingo, he had hit nail on the head. “And that was fine. You moved on, so I did too and I really didn’t believe I would see you again. And then I walk into that diner and there you are: Ronan Lynch, in the flesh, as if it’s barely been a week. Of course, you are different, I don’t mean that you haven’t changed. I couldn’t imagine having a conversation like this with the Ronan I knew.”

Ronan wondered if that hurt him, feeling lost around Ronan the way he did for Adam. Did it make him ache? He doubted it. “You’re different too,” he said.

“Good, I should hope so,” Adam scoffed. Ronan wanted to tell him there was nothing about the way he used to be that he should be ashamed about. “You still sit on my right side.”

He didn’t know what to say. “There was a space there.”

“No, it’s not that. Even when we were walking to the bar, you switched to walk on my hearing side. After all these years, you still remember.”

This time Ronan wanted to laugh. How could he forget? He had dedicated nights, against his will and better judgement, remembering Adam in painstaking detail. His mannerisms, his body, his smile, his voice. Ronan just shrugged.

“Do you think you can stand to be around me?” Ronan asked, half joking. He was serious in his question, but didn’t want to seem like he desperately needed the answer.

Adam watched him, silent for a moment. Ronan recognised the crease in his brow, didn’t let his eyes dart down to Adam clasping his hands across his legs. He hunched forwards and took a deep breath. “I never hated you, Lynch. God, I wanted to. But I couldn’t, I hated what you did – but not you.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Ronan pointed out, despite being surprised by the answer he had received. He had never hated Adam, but being in the same room as him was a task that was weighing on his shoulders, one that he knew would come back to bite him.

Being around Adam was intoxication at its finest. He knew he should stop, knew it made him act out, he knew he had limits and here he was pushing all of them. He knew when he got back Ireland he would be dreaming of him again, something that had never quite stopped, just became more and more infrequent.

Adam sighed, a boyish hand coming up to rub at his neck. “I can do it,” he said, finally. “For Gansey, at least.”

“For Gansey,” Ronan agreed. This whole conversation would play in his head again and again until he had worked out all the ways it could have gone better – far too late. Neither spoke for a minute.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Adam sounded genuinely curious, not just desperate for this conversation to end.

“Yeah, I’ve got to leave,” Ronan looked at his watch, a polished thing that Declan had given him for Christmas last year. He wore it out of practicality, more than style. “Now. Shit, now. Dick’s gonna kill me.”

Ronan stood abruptly, patting his pockets to make sure he hadn’t left anything, not that he had removed anything anyway – he was still wearing his jacket. He was surprised, as Adam got up too, leading him to the door.

“I really have to go,” said Ronan, as if that much wasn’t already obvious. He only said it because he didn’t want to.

“I know,” Adam nodded. “Like you said, you’ll be around.”

He recognised this for what it was, a truce.

“I’ll be around.” He opened the door, willing himself to go. It felt like they might have actually gotten somewhere. Now he would return to Ireland, not see him for a few months, and who knew what footing he would come back to. What if that gave Adam enough time to think things through, realise that actually, Ronan didn’t deserve courtesy. “We good?”

Adam rolled his eyes, apparently not taken with the expression. “We’re good. Now go, or else Gansey will have my hide.”

In all honesty, Ronan was proud of himself, and the effort it took to turn away and leave Adam’s building. He ran to the subway, and then ran some more after his stop, all the while clinging on to the most important part of that conversation: Adam didn’t hate him.

 

***

 

November in Ireland was colder than New York, but twice as green. Ronan caught his flight, barely, and after nine hours and a connection in London, he remembered why this had been an escape for him in the first place. Something about the air, about being so close to the coast, made him feel like he could breathe again.

When he arrived in Carlingford, the town that had been his home for the past six years, he opened the door to his cottage, dumped his duffle bag by the door, and did the unimaginable.

_Im home. Tell maggot I said hi_

He hit send and got a reply from Gansey not even a minute later, not even having put his phone down. But he didn’t respond, not straight away. Instead he logged on to Facebook. He scrolled until he saw Noah had uploaded a picture a waitress had taken of them all that first night, everyone there had been tagged, and the caption read that his visit had been the best surprise.

Ronan pursed his lips, unsure what to comment. He settled for: _gay_. But liked the photo too.

He was reading Gansey’s reply – who sends paragraphs over text? – when his phone buzzed in his hands. The notification read _: friend request – Adam Parrish._

When had he started holding his breath? The request opened when he tapped a gentle finger over it, which now hovered over the two options: _accept_ or _decline_. He stared at the screen, as if he didn’t already know what he would pick. Of course, he had always had a penchant for self-destruction.

_Accept_ , he clicked.

           


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie was there then, appearing besides him. She touched a hand to his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Ronan.”
> 
> Whatever Ronan was beginning to feel, he surprised himself with his ability to swallow it down. It was easier, after a glance at Adam. God, he looked so at peace here, settled among the cushions, ease painted across his features. Ronan’s presence here didn’t bother him, almost as though that tense conversation last month had never happened. Adam’s words rang in his head.
> 
> “I never hated you, Lynch. God, I wanted to. But I couldn’t.”
> 
> He wasn’t about to give him any more reasons to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yep, in this house we get the holiday special in mid-November. 
> 
> A few things before the chapter, firstly I just wanted to say a huge thank you to all the support! I was not expecting that, it was awesome. I hope you guys enjoy the rest of the fic. 
> 
> In terms of disclaimers, I just want to say I'm not sure how this chapter reads - I think it's quite self-indulgent and cheesy, but I enjoy writing it so, there we go. Also wanted to point out that I'm British and writing America is something I struggle with because I like to be as accurate as possible, hence this chapter taking place in Europe, and also hence Ronan's Irish-ness being exaggerated. 
> 
> I'll put some links in the bottom of the chapter for things references! Love all of you x

December arrived unannounced to Ronan, only making itself known through the dates he had to sign on deliveries to his farm, and the reminders that Declan sent him about presents for Christmas. He was to get perfume for his mom, and a ticket to an experience weekend for Matthew and his new girlfriend. Declan suggested cheese tasting, so Ronan had booked white water rafting.

The new month saw a few changes, and even if Ronan struggled to admit it, they weren’t exactly unwelcome. He had managed to cut smoking again, much to the pleasure of his mother, and Gansey. He and Gansey talked regularly, face timing instead of phone calls as neither wanted an astronomical phone bill. Through this, Ronan introduced him and Blue to his dog, Rogue, who had been extremely cross after he returned from New York. He couldn’t blame her – they hadn’t been separated since she was a pup. The week that followed saw her following him everywhere, room to room, all around the farm, even to the bathroom, “Can I not piss in peace, mutt? Get gone, out!”

Gansey kept him updated on the lives of his friends, although he now got a call from Noah every week too. He had gotten cast after his audition, Henry had been on a work trip to Korea and Adam was planning a wedding. Or Stephanie was, more so.

Whenever Gansey mentioned it, Ronan couldn’t help but zone out. He didn’t need to hear that they had chosen a colour scheme, that Blue had been asked to go dress shopping with Stephanie when the time came, and as Adam’s best man, she was also planning the stag do.

“He picked well,” Ronan said, to say anything remotely positive about the whole thing. Out of the shot of his phone’s camera, he picked at the thread around a hole in his jeans. “Imagine if you were his best man – do you think the museum does stag nights?”

“Apparently this has been decided since high school,” Gansey sounded glum. “I’m just sad I won’t be able to give a speech.”

The only other change Ronan could note, was that Adam Parrish was acknowledging his existence once again. It was both an intoxicating and dangerous thing, and as usual for Ronan, that meant it was addictive.

They never spoke. No messages, no calls or even comments. But every so often when Ronan was tagged in something, an article from the Carlingford Weekly Buzz about his photography, or his stall at the farmer’s market, Adam would like it. It might be a day later, and it wasn’t everything that he posted, but it was enough to make him crave it more.

He began to post more often, scoffing at himself for it as soon as whatever he shared that day was uploaded. His need for this slight attention was pathetic, he knew this, but it didn’t stop him. He never captioned his posts, but would share various highlights of his days - often it was Rogue, pictures of her acting cute, forgetting her huge size as she clambered into his lap at the end of the day. One video of her failing to play fetch even got a laughing reaction from the man he so desperately wanted to see it.

Sometimes he uploaded his photography, at Noah’s increasing demand. Shots of his land or cottage, his BWM parked by the Irish coast, even Aurora, bathed in the light of a cold winter’s morning, her blonde hair tangling in her scarf. Post by post, piece by piece, he was beginning to share his life online, if only for the benefit of Adam – who may or may not care.

Unfortunately, it went both ways. After accepting Adam’s request, he had stalked his profile with baited breath, knowing exactly what he was going to find and still, he almost flinched when he did.

_He asked, I said yes!!_

Stephanie had posted, tagging Adam so the post was pinned to his wall. Ronan hadn’t noticed the ring during his visit, but here it was, in all its shiny glory, fitted perfectly to Stephanie’s dainty, manicured finger. It was simple, a single diamond and a thin band, but Ronan still stared at it for longer than he would have liked to admit, before locking his phone and leaving it behind while he went for a long drive.

Driving in Ireland was fun, once you knew where to go. Ronan liked the long stretches of road by the coast, the cliffs in view as he raced down an empty path. There was no one to race, but that was okay, he had outgrown that habit years ago. It was no longer about competing with anyone else, instead he aimed to drive for as long and as fast as possible without a single thought crossing his mind that wasn’t about the road ahead. This hadn’t worked since returning from New York. Now there was an itch under his skin, a thrum in his ear that the EDM couldn’t drown out no matter how hard he tried.

But he was behaving. He was going to be a good friend. To Noah. To Gansey. To Adam, if he let him. If it didn’t kill him first.

 

***

 

One afternoon, after making sure all his cattle had enough bedding, he was about to head out again, camera in hand, until he noticed his cell on the kitchen counter. It was buzzing a mile a minute, his phone screen lit permanently.

He picked it up, last message from Gansey reading: _Ronan, call me when you get this. I have exciting news!_

It was not often that he and Gansey shared the same definition of exciting, but he video called his friend anyway.

“Ronan!” Gansey greeted, having answered immediately.

“What is it, Dick? I’m busy.” The angle at which Ronan held the phone was anything but flattering.

“Of course, I’ll get straight to it then.” Gansey had propped his against something on his desk. He took off his glasses and began to polish them on his shirt. “Do you recall your promise to spend New Year’s with us during your last visit?”

“I do,” Ronan was unsure of where this was going. “I don’t break promises,” he reminded him.

“I know, I know, I just simply remembered your dismay at spending New Year’s in New York.” He placed his glasses back on the ridge of his strong nose.

“It’s a cliché.”

“Yes, well, I was thinking about it last night when I was on the phone with my mother, and I had the best idea,” he paused, probably for dramatic effect. Ronan hated that this was Gansey’s version of getting straight to the point. “Do you remember my family owns a chalet in Chamonix Mont-Blanc?” His French pronunciation was spot on, but Ronan didn’t expect anything less.

“Uhuh,” he hummed.

“Well, it’s empty this year, and I thought that maybe we could all go and spend New Year’s there? It would be easier for you, perhaps, instead of coming all the way to the states, we could come to Europe.”

Ronan thought of the other notifications on his phone. “You’ve already asked the others?”

“Yes, they’re all very excited.”

“Everyone?” Ronan quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Noah wants to ski and Adam says Stephanie hasn’t been to Europe before…” Gansey was still talking but Ronan wasn’t listening. When had _Adam_ been to Europe before?

Every bone in his body was telling him to back away, to retreat, to bail. He couldn’t imagine being in that space with Adam again, tucked away in the mountains, nowhere to escape when he felt suffocated by his presence. But he had promised Gansey. He was trying.

“Okay, but I’m driving,” he cut Gansey off, already exiting the app to frantically google.

“What?” Gansey sounded baffled, his voice now not connected to a picture.

“I’ll drive to Chair Mount Blank or wherever. It’ll only take,” he waited for the page to load. “About twenty hours. I can take Rogue.”

That would work. He would have his car, even if it was just to hide in – blasting the blowers until warm air fogged up all his windows and shut out the rest of the group. He would have his dog, a bigger comfort than he would care to admit.

“Ronan, that’s a long way – it would mean leaving on the twenty-sixth and pausing overnight.”

“And a ferry, yeah.”

“Shit head,” Blue called, apparently having been present and listening the entire call. “Bring the dog.”

Desperate to meet her as she was, Ronan knew this was her acknowledging he had already made up his mind.

When they hung up, he checked the notifications on his phone, to see he had been added to a group chat, now called: _OUI OUI CHAMONIX,_ followed by a baguette emoji.

He didn’t bother to read back through the previous messages, merely clicked that he would be attending the group’s event.

_Noah: ronan!! yes dude im so happy ur gonna b there!!!_

_Henry: Lynch, my man!_

_Blue: he’s bringing the dog_

_Noah: :O_

_Adam: The famous Rogue_

His fingers stuttered above the keys, and he cursed himself for hesitating over the fact that Adam remembered his dog’s name. He sent a thumbs up and decidedly muted the chat.

 

*** 

 

Christmas passed as a surprisingly pleasant occasion. Matthew had an internship in London, and bought his girlfriend across to Ireland for the festivities. Declan flew in from D.C. with Ashley and didn’t let Ronan even begin to forget that he had come all this way. But his mom was just happy to have all of her sons in one place and the role he was assigned in the kitchen to help with dinner was enough to keep him occupied. They went to midnight Mass, a bustling event in Carlingford, and while Ronan only mumbled along to the hymns, he enjoyed it more than he let on. They exchanged gifts, Ronan ignoring Declan’s glare when Matthew thanked him for the experience ticket, and ate until they were fit to burst. Ronan didn’t even slip outside for a sneaky cigarette, which was a minor Christmas miracle in itself.

Ronan wondered how Adam was spending Christmas, but didn’t dare go online to check. He could ask, he supposed, when he saw him in two days’ time. The thought sent waves of nerves through his body, not helped by his full stomach.

Boxing Day rolled around and it was spent at Ronan’s cottage, despite his protests. The Lynch family ate around his sturdy, wooden kitchen table and laughed when Matthew wanted them to. While clearing the table, his mother nudged him, and nodded towards Matthew and his girlfriend, Erin, to Declan and Ashley.

“When will you be bringing someone home to me, ay?” She asked, a well-meaning smile playing on her lips. Ronan shook his head, continued to clean. He didn’t reply that he wasn’t certain he ever would.

Before it grew too late, Ronan disappeared to pack for his next trip, said goodbye to his mother and Declan, and headed towards Dublin with Matthew, Erin and Rogue packed into the BMW. He had to cross from Dublin to Liverpool, and once again at Dover to Calais through the channel tunnel, and offered to drop his brother near Watford on the way.

When his cheerful brother and his girlfriend had exited the car, Ronan became aware of how quiet the car was, Rogue now asleep in the passenger seat. It would be a long journey. He drove along the stretches of motorway, coming to standstills in traffic because everyone was ready to escape their family after the holiday and the M25 seemed to be the place to do that. With his stereo on and his hands on the wheel, he was almost ready to forget that Adam would be waiting for his arrival with the others.

 

***

 

A tunnel, a motel and roughly a day later, Ronan arrived in Chamonix. The roads were clear despite the snow, but he still mentally thanked his past self for changing the tires on the BWM the week before he left. It was evening, but the town couldn’t appear that dark. The lights of the houses dotted along the mountain side and the town in the valley reflected off the snow, making everything almost eerily bright. He followed Gansey’s instructions and soon he had pulled up outside the chalet.

It was essentially a large wood cabin – a _large_ wood cabin. A wooden mansion, perhaps was more accurate, with tall windows emanating a warm, yellow glow. Suddenly, Ronan felt weary, and everything about the chalet was inviting. When he stepped out of the BMW, the cold hit him like a wall. He could hear laughter from inside. Rogue was bouncing around, over, between his legs, tail wagging as her paws dug at the snow, and she would trip him up if he wasn’t careful.

“Calm down, mutt, Jesus,” he rolled his eyes, nudging her in the direction of the house, which she happily bounded towards. At the door, he squatted down and tried to brush some of the clumps of snow off of her legs. She didn’t seem bothered at all.

He didn’t bother knocking, knowing the front door would be open, Ronan merely slid inside, Rogue pattering into the entry way of the house in front of him. There were voices nearby, chattering and then laughter, words overlapping each other, faint Christmas music playing in the background. He shut the door before any of the chalet’s warm air could escape, and the talking died. There was a pause.

“Ronan?”

Rogue barked, a sharp noise, in the response to her owner’s name.

There was the sound of feet against the bare wood floors, faster than he expected, and then he saw Noah and Blue round the corner of the hallway, Gansey following close behind, but in a much calmer manner.

“Cold as shit out there,” he said.

“Ronan!” Noah sang, throwing himself at his friend. Ronan had to drop his duffle bag by his feet, in order to accept the hug. He returned it with one arm, and a nod when he was released.

Blue was already on the floor, her arms wrapped around Rogue, who was almost comically the same size as her. The dog was desperately trying lick at her face, and Ronan had already decided he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He passed the pair, ruffling Blue’s hair as he did, and clapped Gansey on the back.

“Ronan Lynch,” Gansey greeted, and it meant, _it’s good to see you_. “I trust your Christmas was good?”

“Wasn’t bad,” Which meant it was actually pretty damn good. “Why are you still playing that crap? It’s the twenty-seventh.”

“It’s still Christmas,” Noah protested, having joined Blue on the floor to fuss over Rogue. God, that dog was going to be spoiled this trip. “We have until New Year’s, I’m making the most of it. Especially since none of us were together then!”

Ronan shook his head, and let himself be lead into the main room by his friend. “Hot-toddy?” He offered, in a way only Gansey would.

“Nah,” he jerked a thumb towards the door. “I’ve got some of the black stuff in the car.”

The room around the corner was actually more of an open space that functioned as multiple rooms. There was the kitchen, polished mahogany counters and no doubt fully stocked already, and then a dining space, a long table that could seat far more than the group they had here. The rest of the room was a lounge space, a roaring fire as the centre-piece, and long, plush sofas that had people sprawled across them. There he was.

Ronan wondered if there would be a time when he saw Adam Parrish, that didn’t make his breath catch.

He couldn’t work out if when that time came, whether he would feel disappointed or relieved. It didn’t matter, he decided within an instant, because there would never be a moment when he laid his eyes on Adam and didn’t feel his heart stutter.

Whether he loved him or not, whether they were friends or even less once again, that was just how his body reacted to beauty, it made him falter, and Adam was beautiful.

And he was so oblivious to that fact – just sitting there, his legs stretched out along the sofa, a book perched in his lap. He wore a knitted cream sweater and looked like he belonged on a damn Christmas card. When Ronan and Gansey stopped by the counter, he looked up, his hair flicking into his eyes. Slowly, measured as it always was with him, a small smile grew.

“Lynch.”

“Parrish.”

For a moment, everything was as it was supposed to be. This was where he was supposed to be. He was so close to throwing himself down next to him, making him laugh with his exaggeration, just like he used to. Then, Cheng had to fucking ruin it.

“Lynch! I thought I felt the room get colder,” the man stood from an arm chair by the fire, a nearly empty glass of red wine in his hand. “Or maybe hotter? Because you’re a devil, y’know.”

“And you’re drunk,” Ronan pointed out, accepting a fist bump from Henry’s empty hand.

“I am, under the influence, yes – and loving it.” Henry flashed a dazzling grin. “I spent my Christmas winning over another company’s executives, I’ve earned this.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Henry.” Stephanie was there then, appearing besides him. She touched a hand to his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Ronan.”

Whatever Ronan was beginning to feel, he surprised himself with his ability to swallow it down. It was easier, after a glance at Adam. God, he looked so at peace here, settled among the cushions, ease painted across his features. Ronan’s presence here didn’t bother him, almost as though that tense conversation last month had never happened. Adam’s words rang in his head.

_“I never hated you, Lynch. God, I wanted to. But I couldn’t.”_

He wasn’t about to give him any more reasons to.

“Hey,” Ronan said, as greeting enough, grimacing more so than smiling, despite his best efforts. He thought he heard Henry scoff.

 

***

 

After all of his greetings were out of the way, after Gansey had given him the grand tour, showing him his room, and the wine cellar, and the cinema room, after Rogue had run up and down the entirety of the chalet, inspecting every corner, the group settled back into the lounge. Ronan clutched a can of Guinness that he had brought from home.

“You’re such a stereotype, Lynch,” Henry said from his chair. “You don’t see me drinking soju.”

“That’s because you can’t handle your soju,” he countered.

“Damn straight I can’t.” He tipped his wine glass in Ronan’s direction.

Ronan didn’t reply, but watched Adam snicker from the corner of his eye. Blue, seated beside him, leaned against his arm, reaching to stroke Rogue who sat between his feet.

“How do wind up with the best pets?” She asked, cooing at his dog.

Stephanie was sat next to Adam on the other sofa. “What other pets have you had?”

It just served as a reminder to Ronan, probably to everyone else in the group, that she didn’t belong there. No, that wasn’t fair. She hadn’t been there, in high school, in Aglionby, in Henrietta.

“I had a raven,” he said, wondering if he sounded as wistful as he felt. “Chainsaw, she was the biggest pain in my ass.”

“Tore up my homework, more than once,” Adam added, but when Ronan locked eyes with him there was no annoyance there. He knew they were both picturing Monmouth, lying around while Adam studied and Ronan pretended he wasn’t watching him, Chainsaw pecking at Adam’s pen as it moved across the paper. “She was great.”

“The fucking best.” It took a physical effort to tear his eyes from Adam, and the way his throat moved as he swallowed. He went to take a swig from his can, and found it empty. “I’m gonna grab another.”

He stood, stepping around Rogue at his feet, and made his way towards the kitchen portion of the room.  
“Yeah, me too.” He heard Adam stand and follow him.

Ronan kept his eyes ahead, until he reached the fridge. He retrieved a can but didn’t shut the fridge immediately. Adam had paused by its door, his arms crossed, just watching. His expression, though still hard to decipher, seemed to be bordering on amused. By the sofas the others were talking.

“You want one?” He held the can of Guinness towards him.

Adam’s eyes flicked towards it, and then back up to his face. He couldn’t help but feel like he was under scrutiny, but with Adam Parrish that was almost normal. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never tried it before?”

Ronan frowned, hoping offence was evident in his face, as he shut the fridge. “Well, you can’t have this shit then.” He cracked it open and took a sip. “You need it on tap, this is piss poor compared.”

“Is that so?” Adam quirked an eyebrow.

“Uhuh,” Ronan nodded, solemnly. “You know it’s a good pull too, when the bartender can leave the outline of a shamrock in the head.”

“I guess I’ll stick to wine then.”

“It’s probably for the best.” This banter, he had missed it so much that now he had to strain to keep a grin off of his face.

He watched as Adam fixed himself a glass, careful not to angle his head so obviously, keeping it forward while he drank. He waited, but Adam didn’t go to move when he was done.

“You have a good Christmas?” Adam asked, eyes flittering back to the rest of the group for a split second.

“It wasn’t awful,” he said. “Matthew brought his girlfriend, mum loved that.”

“Oh, so they’re pretty serious then?”

“Yeah, I think you’d have to be, to bring someone back to our family.” It was very possible that the Lynch brothers might have frightened off anyone looking to join their family, even if his and Declan relationship was the best it had been in years. An ocean between them helped keep them on nearly friendly terms. “Plus Declan and Ashley tied the knot a few years back, mum’s waiting on these two now.”

For some reason, Ronan’s mind was drawn back to the conversation he and Adam had had outside the bar the previous month. Adam had asked if there was anyone in his life, Ronan had left it hanging. This conversation felt like it was dangerously close to outing Ronan as – as what? Alone? Pining? Did it make it sound like he had someone, back home? Surely, if that was the case whoever he had would be here now? Adam had to know that there wasn’t, he always seemed to know.

“Declan’s wedding,” he puffed out a breath of air. “That must have been something to see.”

Ronan nodded. “I was best man.”

“No way,” Adam laughed. Ronan couldn’t help but latch onto the sound. “How did that go?”

“Fuck you, I was great. Made a speech and everything.” Ronan jerked his head towards the others. “Gansey cried.”

“That doesn’t count, he always cries at weddings.”

The statement was true, and drew smirks from each of them, until Ronan was reminded of what was likely to be the next wedding Gansey attended. That would be Adam, standing at the end of aisle. Laughing at Blue’s speech. Dancing, with Stephanie while everyone in his life watched. Ronan’s chest panged.

“What about you, Parrish? Good Christmas?”

He wondered if Adam sensed him changing the subject, because he didn’t reply straight away. Could he hear that his voice was tight? His fingers inched further around the belly of his wine glass, his blue eyes darting to the ground, and then to the cupboards in the kitchen, anywhere but Ronan.

“Yeah, it was good. Quiet, but good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ronan said, and meant it despite the hitch between his ribs that was only just beginning to fade.

 

***

 

When it came time for each of them to retire, everyone but Ronan had already settled into their rooms earlier that day. He had dropped his duffle bag in his when he first arrived, but hadn’t paid much attention other than that. There had been a bedroom on the ground floor that Noah had claimed, on the first floor there was his room and two others, and above was the master suite where Gansey and Blue were sleeping.

Ronan got ready for bed, changed and settled into his blankets for the night when he heard it. He frowned, trying to focus. There it was again – murmurs. Voices. He sat up, nearly knocking his head against the bed frame in the process. Rogue looked at him from the bottom of his bed.

It clicked, as he placed each of his friends in a different room. Noah was below, Gansey and Blue above. And Henry wasn’t going to be talking to himself.

He had the room next to Adam and Stephanie. This was not happening. He tried to calm himself, they were only talking. He couldn’t even hear exactly what they were saying. But still –

Rogue followed him as he shot out of his room, probably disturbing everyone as he thudded downstairs again, to find himself at Noah’s door. He knocked, to no answer. He tapped relentlessly at the door until his friend opened it, his hair sticking up in all angles, despite the fact he couldn’t have been in bed for longer than twenty minutes.

“Swap rooms with me,” Ronan said, before Noah could ask why he was there.

“What?” Noah squinted at him. “No, why would I do that?”

“Because I’m asking you to.”

“No way,” Noah frowned.

“Dude, come on.” Ronan wasn’t sure he was above begging at this point.

“No, all of my stuff is here, man. I’m tired as hell, okay? Just go back-”

“My room is next to Adam’s. And Stephanie’s.” Ronan blurted. Noah stared at him, cogs taking a little longer to turn in his sleepy state. “I can hear them-”

“Oh my god,” Noah gaped.

“-talking.” Ronan hissed, lowering his voice. “I can hear them talking.”

“But you want to swap in case that’s not all they do.”

For a second, Ronan genuinely thought he was going to be sick. He hadn’t allowed his mind to drift there, even now it couldn’t explicitly. All he thought of was the curve of Adam’s bare spine, and someone else’s hands trailing up it.

“Fuck off, I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“There’s no need to be so dramatic,” Noah rolled his eyes. “I’m not moving, but every room in this place has a king sized – just share with me tonight and we can figure it out in the morning.”

Part of Ronan wanted to say no, knew he was being petulant. But he thought of the couch against his back, after hours and hours of driving, no matter how expensive it was. He thought of trudging back upstairs to his room and lying awake, knowing Adam was there on the other side of the wall, with someone else in his arms. He sighed.

“Her, too,” he said, pointing to the dog waiting patiently at his feet. Thankfully, Noah was unbothered by the second intruder to his room, and stepped aside to welcome them both in.

 

***

 

Ronan didn’t sleep. Noah tossed and turned, out cold but moving like an athlete while he dreamed. Rogue, who usually slept either on the floor or at the foot of the bed, had sandwiched herself between the two of them. But really Ronan knew he wouldn’t have slept, even without his two disturbances, his mind was elsewhere.

He would close his eyes and see Adam. See the smiles he had granted him the night before, the slant of his brows while he thought at a million miles an hour – no matter the situation, the boy was always thinking, he couldn’t help it. Ronan clung to the memories he had, of times that he was able to shut off that brain of his.

That wasn’t his job anymore though, hadn’t been for a long time. That was Stephanie’s now. Above him, they slept peacefully. His mind, masochist as it was, wondered how they slept. Close together or spread out? Did Adam wrap himself around her, the way he used to when Ronan was restless? The last visit had been different, when the couple left Gansey’s, they didn’t exist in a real way. They existed in Ronan’s mind, as something to torment him on nights like this, but here, they were something more. A real couple, who shared a room, who were getting married and would always share a room.

He almost cursed God for this, but also knew that he deserved it. He had made his bed years ago, and now he was being forced to lie in it. His good mood, from a genuine, enjoyable conversation with Adam, was destroyed over the course of several sleepless hours.

It was light outside when Ronan finally succumbed to his heavy eyes, tired from more than his long journey to the chalet, and he guessed he had only been asleep for about half an hour when Noah woke him for the day.

Sleep deprived. Frustrated. Hurting more than he would care to admit. For the first time in a long while, Ronan wanted to punch something.

When they exited the bedroom, Adam was already in the kitchen. Ronan began to turn in the opposite direction, until Noah caught him by the scruff of his t-shirt and span him around. He stumbled into the counter. Adam was already dressed, a snug grey sweater hugging his shoulders. He blinked at the two of them,

“Did you sleep in Noah’s room last night?” He didn’t need to ask, he had watched them both leave the room together. His tone, perfectly level, woke Ronan up better than any coffee could.

Did he think-?

“We stayed up playing games in the cinema room,” Noah lied effortlessly, the swift bastard. “Ronan didn’t want to wake anyone coming up, so he slept in my room.”

It was nice, Ronan decided, to know that Noah so evidently had his back. As he spoke, he poured a cup of coffee and pushed it into Ronan’s hand. He could have kissed him, but instead he gulped it down, ignoring it scalding his mouth. Ronan grunted, agreeing with Noah’s explanation.

“I thought you were a morning person,” Adam smirked. At least he was finding this amusing.

“I’m a fucking farmer, of course I’m a morning person,” he snapped, no real fire there. “Can’t be a morning person, however, if you haven’t been to sleep. This fucker sleep dances or some shit.”

Without asking for permission, Adam refilled what he had drunk of his coffee, and then topped his own. “What’s your plan for today then?”

“We’re hitting the slopes,” Noah announced, his mouth full around a croissant he seemed to have grabbed from nowhere. “Gansey’s gonna teach Blue to ski, Ronan and I are snowboarding.”

Ronan had been vaguely informed of this plan the previous day. It had been a few years since he had snowboarded, but he found himself oddly excited. Throwing himself down an icy slope was probably the closest he was going to get to the feeling of punching something. A rush, a release. It would do him good.

Adam hummed in reply, eyes darting back to the papers Ronan hadn’t even seen on the counter – they were reports of some kind, too many numbers for this early in the morning.

“You in?” He asked, in his best attempt at casual.

“That would be a no,” Adam’s mouth curved, pouting slightly as he dragged out the last word. He pointed to the papers. “Work. And Steph and Cheng, they want to go over a few things.” Ronan’s lack of understanding appeared to show on his face. “Wedding stuff – we needed to decide on a venue, like, yesterday.”

For some reason, Adam was almost mumbling. He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but there was something close to concern there. Frustration maybe? How much more time would he have to spend with him, he wondered, to become fluent in ‘Adam’ once again?

“Got it,” he said, because that was more than enough for him. “I’ll go get my shit together, then.”

He chugged his last few mouthfuls of coffee, and tore like a storm out of the kitchen. He was ready to get on the slopes, try some reckless stuff, feel his heart beat faster for a reason that wasn’t the boy that was watching him leave. Snowboarding. He could do that.

 

***

 

As it turned out, he could not do that.

If Ronan was to take away two things away from this trip, it was that one – life was a cruel, cruel thing, and that two – you shouldn’t snowboard while sleep deprived, especially if it’s been a few years since you’ve been anywhere near a slope. The third thing he would be taking away, was a broken arm.

It had started out fine, his first ride, on one of the lower slopes, had been shaky to begin with, but he soon got grips with it. He joined Noah at a more advanced course, admittedly, sooner that he should have, but he was failing to get that buzz, that rush he had come for in the first place. And it hadn’t even gone that badly first time down. The second, he and Noah decided to go down together – agreeing to that was probably his major error. One moment he was racing down, then he had craned his neck to see if he could glimpse Noah, and when he turned his head back, his eyes refused to focus on what he was doing. He felt that deep, fatigued sensation in the back of his head, and then suddenly he was tumbling. A funny landing with his arm beneath him, and a whole load of cursing, had landed him in the emergency room.

Gansey had insisted he got it checked, despite all the complaints, so he drove a swearing Ronan, Blue and a guilty Noah to the nearest hospital. Ronan told Noah three times that it wasn’t his fault, but his sulking didn’t subside. In the waiting room, while Gansey conversed with the nurses in French, most likely just for an excuse to practise it, Blue folded paper planes from pamphlets and made them soar to hit Ronan in the head.

“Maggot, I swear to God, if another one comes my way, it won’t be me they’re checking for broken bones.” He was so close to falling asleep in the hard plastic chair, until he was finally taken for an x-ray.

He was accompanied by Gansey, who was translating everything that was said, despite Ronan guessing most of the doctors at least spoke some English. But with his intense, furrowed frown, and occasional outbursts whenever someone inspecting his arm moved it the wrong way (“Jesus Mary fuck!”), he couldn’t blame them for not wanting to talk to him.

“You’re lucky,” Gansey began after thanking the doctor. Ronan snorted, unsure how true that statement was. “It’s broken but it’s clean, you won’t need surgery. In fact, as soon as they’ve fitted your cast, we’re good to go.”

A cast? “Fuck off.”

Ronan was beginning to think his life was some kind of joke to the Big Guy, watching from above. Hours later, his cast was fitted, he was given some heavy painkillers – which he wasn’t going to argue with – and they were sent on their way.

When they arrived back at the chalet, Noah was still hovering by his side. “This is so fucking stupid,” Ronan complained, eyeing his grim expression. “It didn’t even hurt that bad,” he lied.

“Pft,” Blue scoffed, as the four entered the kitchen. “Your mouth said otherwise at the time. Not sure how many Hail Marys you owe now.”

Okay, so it had hurt – still hurt, he was fixing to take some of the pills he’d been given and stop it from panging. In the main room Henry and Stephanie sat at the dining table, and Adam was coming down the stairs the same time as their arrival.

“What didn’t hurt that bad?” He asked, padding across the room, sounding vaguely amused, until Ronan raised his cast clad arm in reply. He told himself that the way Adam’s eyes widened was just friendly concern, but then Adam reached out and his heart soared. “What happened?”

Adam was touching his arm, inspecting the cast. One of his hands cradled his elbow, bare from where his sleeve had been rolled up for the cast. The other rested underneath his fingertips, in order to lift his arm away from his body. Ronan’s own body was a traitor, his skin searing where Adam’s hands made contact. _Adam’s hands._ He would know them anywhere, committing the callous pads, the jut of his knuckles to memory years ago.

This was the first touch since Adam had hugged him at the diner, and even then that wasn’t bare skin, only the pressure of his fingers above his jacket. They had plagued him, phantomly, for weeks. God knew how long he would be remembering this.

Gansey coughed. He had taken too long to answer, staring at the contact. Adam’s eyebrows were furrowed, waiting for his reply.

“Don’t sleep and snowboard,” he said. Could Adam feel how fast his heart was beating?

Adam’s eyes ticked up from the cast, to Ronan’s face. He looked almost annoyed, staring Ronan down for a moment, before relinquishing his touch. “You’re an idiot,” he said, blankly, shaking his head as he continued on to the kitchen.

“Guilty,” Ronan replied, his voice bitter. His arm stung, but not where it was injured.

 

***

 

If Ronan had any plans in mind for the rest of the trip, he could forget them. Everything, from here on out, had to be Gansey approved, to ensure he rested well enough to be able to drive home in a week’s time. (“How are you going to manage?” “This is Europe, Dick, gear stick is on the left.”) He was still sleeping in Noah’s room – read, not sleeping at all. It was not going unnoticed.

“I have to say, you’re not looking too chipper there, Lynch.” Ronan could feel Henry leaning over the back of the sofa, despite his eyes being closed. He had stretched out along the length of the couch, one leg crossed over the other

“He means you look like crap,” Noah was somewhere in the room too apparently.

Ronan responded by pulling one of the cushions he was lying on, over his eyes, throwing a middle finger out along the way. Henry chuckled, and Ronan could hear as he walked away. He was very nearly drifting off, his cast resting bulkily on his chest, when Henry got a phone call. His voice grower louder and quieter as he paced up and down the room, and when he hung up, he sighed.

“Right, love birds,” Gansey and Blue were out, buying ingredients for dinner that night, so it was clear who Henry was addressing. Ronan tried to sink deeper into the sofa. “That was Lewis, my connection at one of the venues downtown. He says if you guys want it, it’s yours. But you have to decide by the end of tomorrow.”

Adam groaned, without even looking, Ronan knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you, Hen,” Stephanie said, more graciously. “We’re just struggling to decide, what it is we’re really looking for. What suits us, y’know?”

“And what we can afford,” Adam stressed. Ronan tried to keep his expression blank, eyes still closed. It sounded like he was talking to Stephanie, not Henry.

“This place is classic,” Henry pointed out. “It’s chic, it’s elegant, it’s in very high demand. Lewis can budge on the price a bit too. What’s not to love?”

Beneath his skin, Ronan could feel blood rising, the result of his fatigue, of having to be present for this conversation at all, of knowing how that wouldn’t suit the Adam he knew at all. No wonder he didn’t sound excited.

He tried to keep quiet, he really did. “What’s not for _you_ to love, Cheng. That sounds like _your_ dream wedding.” What a stupid conversation, who even cared? He sat up, and looked at the three with dark eyes.

“Fine, Lynch,” Henry gestured for him to take the floor. “What would you suggest?”

Ronan froze, when he realised that Henry, Stephanie, even Adam, were all looking at him – waiting for a genuine answer. His eyes couldn’t help but stray to Adam as he thought – really thought – about what he was going to say. Adam held his gaze, chin tipped as if he was steeling himself.

The aim was to only do this once, right? Adam deserved a perfect wedding, even if the more he thought about this being a real thing, with a ticking clock, the more he felt himself begin to crumble. But he was honest, always. He looked at Henry, but could see Adam watching out of the corner of his eye.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” he said, to sound like he didn’t care, even when he knew exactly. “Go upstate. The Catskill Mountains, I went to a wedding there one summer when I was younger, one of dad’s cousins, or something, I don’t even remember. They had the whole thing in this forest clearing, lit it up with some fairy lights or candles or some shit. Had all the mountains the background of their pictures, killer view.” Ronan couldn’t resist looking at Adam, had to know what he was thinking. Adam seemed dangerously still. He shrugged. “It’s probably what I would do.”  

For a moment, no one spoke, but they all stared at him. He regretted opening his mouth.

“That’s…” Henry looked back at the couple. “That’s actually not a bad idea. The timing might be a little rushed, but you wanted a summer date anyway.”

“I think it sounds perfect,” God, Ronan wished he couldn’t hear how happy Stephanie sounded. She wasn’t loud, or excitable, but her voice was firm with content. Ronan watched as she laid a hand over Adam’s. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Adam stood from his chair, sliding his hand out from underneath hers. “Perfect,” he said, as if it were anything but, “excuse me.” He left the room without any further comments.

Awkward didn’t really begin to cut it. Stephanie hurriedly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and gave a small smile. “Ignore him, all this planning stresses him out.”

In a twist that surprised even him, he felt for Stephanie. Sitting at the dining room table, a binder and papers surrounding her, she looked smaller than Ronan remembered before. He knew what stressed Adam could be like, as kind and thoughtful as he was usually, when he was overwhelmed, he always used to spiral. Become a self-saboteur, made everyone his enemy no matter how much he cared, and then kicked himself for it later. But Stephanie had to know this already.

He got off the couch, evidently not going to get any sleep there. Stephanie had a planner in front of her, but she was rolling her pen between her fingers instead of writing anything down. Then, in somewhat a sudden movement, she began scraping her hair back, tying it in a ponytail, and got back to work.

Ronan went to his car, turned on the blowers because it was freezing, and snagged his box of cigarettes from the glove compartment – for emergencies, like when the fact your ex was getting married in less than a year really hits home. Or when you did something stupid, like tell your ex to have the wedding in a place you had once, in some sort of embarrassing fantasy he had been way too young for, maybe thought about marrying him someday. He fell asleep in his car, until Gansey knocked on the window and told him dinner was ready.

 

***

 

Adam was acting weird.

Well, not weird. There wasn’t anything abnormal about it, because Ronan still recognised what Adam did whenever he got too in his head. He shut down outwardly, while there was a storm of thoughts and logistics in his mind. He got quiet, but never absent – he watched everything. Dinner had continued as if no one noticed, and it was beginning to grate on Ronan.

So when Adam disappeared after the meal, Ronan found himself in front of his and Stephanie’s bedroom door. This was dangerous territory. He paced twice outside it and then turned around to head back downstairs, when it opened.

Adam’s hand rested on the door frame, the other jammed into his jean pocket. He was glaring.

“Hey,” Ronan said, trying to sound as if he hadn’t been loitering outside his door.

“Hey,” when Adam replied, it was sharp thing, it was black and yellow warning tape wrapped all around him.

“Look,” Ronan’s hand came up to rub at his buzz cut, feeling the fine hair beneath his fingers. “I don’t know what’s your problem, if you’re mad at Cheng, or Stephanie or if-”

“Mad at-?” Adam blinked, and then narrowed his eyes. “I’m not mad at Cheng, or at Steph. I’m mad at you.”

Ronan frowned. He pointed a finger at his chest. “Me?”

He wasn’t given any confirmation. Adam leaned forwards, looking up and down the hallway once, before grabbing Ronan by the front of his shirt, dragging him into his room. Ronan’s eyes went wide, frozen by the grip Adam had on him, until it was gone. Adam released him to slam the door shut.

“What are you doing?” Ronan told himself he didn’t stutter, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, it was hard to get the words out.

The look Adam shot him could have easily been six years ago. It was the one that said, _you’re an idiot, Lynch._ “You want Gansey to hear us fighting?”

That’s where this was going. First Ronan was hit with a wave of embarrassment for thinking, guiltily praying, it could have been going anywhere else. His blood was rushing, his cheeks were warm and he was sure it was visible. Then he thought that Adam was right, he absolutely did not want Gansey to hear them fighting – and then:

“Wait, we’re fighting?” There was the look again. “Why? We’re fine, we’ve been fine. You said that we were good!” Every word managed to be both hushed and pointed.

“Well, we’re not good, Lynch!” Adam was in his face, still shorter than him, but had no qualms about pushing into his personal space. “God, why do you keep saying that? Good? What part of this is good? We’re not good – we’re not.”

Ronan was lost. He couldn’t even pinpoint where this had come from. They had been talking, joking at the beginning of the holiday. Where had he gone wrong?

“I can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t – what do you need from me? Another apology? Me to tell you I fucked up? We both already know that.”

“What about an explanation? You still haven’t given me one of those,” Adam folded his arms.

He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands. “What do you even want to know?”

“Why you left me,” he demanded, his voice lacking emotion told Ronan it was there. Ronan made himself ignore the feeling in his chest the question gave him, after all these years he still wanted to know? He hated that this still bothered him, and took some awful pleasure in it at the same time.

“You were leaving,” Ronan said, simply. Honesty, he reminded himself. “You were gonna break me.”

“So you broke me first,” Adam’s tone was so accusatory, it made Ronan flinch.

“I didn’t say it was smart, or right, or if it made any difference,” _because it killed me,_ “because it hurt anyway.” Adam didn’t reply, so Ronan took the opportunity. “It was shitty, it was fucking selfish but at the time, I honestly thought it was just what was best for you.”

“That wasn’t yours to decide, Ronan.” God, he shouldn’t say his name, it made him weak.

“I know that now.” Ronan replied. “I do – I, fuck. I’ve never forgiven myself for the way things went down. And I’m sorry. But this-” he gestured between them. “I can’t do it. Hate me, or forgive me.”

“I never hated-”

“Never hated me, I know, but you’re angry. You can’t keep me guessing, we can’t joke with each other and then wind up like this. Be angry with me, yell at me, hate me. God knows I deserve it. But decide. Decide how you feel, and stick with it, because I’m flying blind here.”

His heart ticked as he counted the seconds waiting for Adam’s reply. Instead, he sat down beside him, not looking at him, when Ronan turned to watch him speak.

“I am angry,” Adam admitted. “You’re right, I’m angry.”

“I can’t blame you.”

“I’m angry because today, in a room full of people who are supposed to know me best, you were the only one who thought about what I wanted – already knew what I wanted. I mean, Catskill Mountains? I was angry because, you do stupid things like that,” he gestured to his arm and its cast, “and I still care. I don’t know why. I’m angry because having you around again? It just feels right. I hate that.”

Ronan couldn’t breathe. This boy was going to kill him.

“God, you’re right, I sound like such an asshole.” Ronan’s voice dripped with sarcasm, despite his struggle to keep it even. Adam snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to be angry, though.”

“Then what do you want?” Ronan knew the reply he wanted, and he knew it wasn’t the one he was going to get.

Adam laughed, an almost noiseless thing, and shook his head. He shrugged, and fell back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling, his feet still firmly planted on the floor.

“Let’s be friends,” Ronan looked down at him. He wanted so much more, but he would take what he was allowed. Would grab it with both hands if Adam let him. “Not for Gansey – for us.”

For a long moment, Adam closed his eyes. His light, feathery, eyelashes splaying as he did so. He exhaled. “Ronan Lynch wants me to be his friend.” There was the slightest smile there.

“You better feel honoured.” Ronan was fighting the urge to lay beside him.

“Oh, I do.” Adam mocked him, obviously. He loved it. His reply took another moment. “I’m not going to be angry at you, anymore. That’s my decision.”

“You might want to rephrase that. I’m still going to piss you off.”

Adam couldn’t deny that. “Fine, I’m not angry at you for-” he his eyes flicked down “-for what happened back then.”

“I can live with that,” Ronan said. And he could, he so could.

 

***

 

New Year’s Eve arrived, and they decided to spend it in Chamonix town centre, much to Ronan’s dismay. It was heaving, bodies young and old shuffling to get to a good spot for the fireworks. It was difficult to navigate, even without Ronan’s hefty cast. For some reason he had also brought his camera, thinking that he could work with its settings and get some good snaps of the display, but among the crowd he was more worried about it being crushed against him.

Eventually, Blue had towed them towards a spot that suited each of them, a good view, but wasn’t central enough that they were boxed in by people. Part of Ronan felt guilty about leaving Rogue back at the chalet, but there she wouldn’t be able to hear the fireworks, which was better than bringing her and hearing her whimper.

Even with his injured arm, Ronan managed to snap a couple of good pictures, of his friends, red cheeked from the cold and smiling almost viciously. Blue was on Gansey’s back, shuffling to get a better look and nearly throwing both of them over. They were laughing and Ronan caught it.

Then there was Adam – pensive as always, staring out at the sea of people. The countdown was just starting when Ronan raised his camera. He clicked, capturing his profile, the line of his jaw, curve of his lips.

They were counting, shouting out the numbers. He clicked again and caught the beginnings of a smile forming.

Stephanie had approached Adam from behind, circling her arms around his waist. Click.

Three! Two! One!

Adam had twisted in her arms, and as the clock struck midnight, Stephanie pressed herself to his lips. Ronan clicked, but didn’t look at the image as it appeared on his screen. Maybe it could be a wedding present or something.

“Happy New Year!”

They had agreed to be friends, and at the time Ronan had been ecstatic. Now he wondered if this is how it would always be, watching Adam love someone else. If so, how long could he last, honestly? One day it would be too much, and they would have to go back to strangers. There was limited time to enjoy Adam’s company – he decided, his New Year’s resolution would be to make the most of it.

Happy New Year, he thought to himself.

 

***

 

They didn’t stay out for long, Gansey had volunteered as designated driver for the SUV they had rented to drive them to and from the airport, and they decided it was only fair to get back to celebrate properly – Gansey didn’t seem fussed, but Blue insisted and that was that.

“Who knows any French New Year’s traditions?” Noah asked, excitably as he exited the car, stumbling out into the snow. It was nearly one o’clock, the sky still dark and starry above them.

“I don’t,” Gansey frowned, fishing out his keys. He sounded surprised, as if he had offended himself with his lack of knowledge. He unlocked the front door.

“What about an Irish one?” Ronan asked.

“That works!” Noah chimed. Gansey was about to head in the door.

“Wait, Dick.” Ronan pulled him back. “It’s called first footing. Luck of the year depends on who goes through that door first.” The group waited. “Absolutely must not be a girl.”

“Rude,” Blue crossed her arms.

“And they’re supposed to have dark hair, that’s better luck.”

“My time to shine,” Henry began to make his way towards the door, but Ronan lay a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

“They’re supposed to be handsome too, so I guess we’re fucked there then.”

Laughs echoed between his friends, Henry’s mouth gaping in exaggerated offense, but Ronan pushed him through the door before he could complain and followed him inside. The others followed, girls entering last by Ronan’s orders despite Blue’s complaints about all the ways the tradition was sexist. Adam brushed past him as they followed into the entry way.

“You have dark hair,” he pointed out, stopping by Ronan as they both removed their shoes.

“I don’t have any hair,” Ronan countered.

“But when you do – I’m sure that counts. Could have been you,” was all Adam said, before joining the others in the lounge. Ronan could feel his cheeks warming, not allowing himself to believe Adam had really just implied that he was handsome. He felt like a teenager again.

“Lynch!” Henry’s call drew him out from his stupor. “Does that mean you know that song, then? The New Year’s one?”

“Auld Lang Syne? That’s Scottish, jackass.” Ronan was greeted by Rogue bounding towards him. He led her to the sofa and dropped down next to Gansey. “And everyone knows that song.”

“It’s still Celtic, there’s no difference.” Ronan was going to hit him. “And no – everyone pretends to know the words to that song. No one really knows it.”

“I don’t,” Noah agreed.

“Nor me,” Blue shook her head.

“I do,” Gansey said, which surprised no one.

“Well, then you two have to sing it for us!” Stephanie said. Ronan wanted the couch to swallow him.

“Absolutely not,” laughed Gansey. He elbowed a Ronan. “I couldn’t possibly sing with Ronan, I’d tarnish it.”

“You sing?” Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered how he seemed to her, without the years of knowing him that everyone else had. She wasn’t intimidated, he knew that last month when she practically dragged him to their apartment. But this surprised her, obviously.

“No,” Ronan said, at the same time Gansey said, “yes.”

“I used to,” he shot daggers at the friend next to him, so desperate to ruin his evening.

“I do believe I might have been the only person here to have heard you, actually,” Gansey pushed his glasses up his nose. “Those Irish singing competitions. You were good.”

“Oh, please sing for us, Ronan,” Noah had been seated on the floor, but crossed towards Ronan moving only on his knees. He was probably the most tipsy, but was thoroughly enjoying himself. “I won’t let it go, y’know.”

Ronan groaned, knowing that Noah wouldn’t. “Dick sings with me, or it’s not happening.”

Noah rounded on Gansey, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “Alright, I suppose so,” he relented, with a lot less resistance than Ronan had anticipated. “You have to start though, I don’t remember the tune.”

“This is bull shit,” Ronan sighed, but took a deep breath anyway, knowing that his friends were a moment away from chanting for it. He would skip a couple of verses and it would be over before he knew it. “ _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne?”_

He heard Gansey join in with him, not as loudly as he would have hoped. While it was a Scottish song, Henry had been right in that it still matched his voice, the Irish ring that he had perfected when he was younger still very present.

_“For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne. We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne.”_

Adam was watching him, he knew this before he even met his eyes. Once he had though, he knew he had made a fatal error. Did Adam know, could he hear that, as stupid as his singing this was, he meant it?

_“We twa hae ran about the braes, and pu'd the gowans fine, but we've wander'd monie a weary fit, sin' days of auld lang syne. And we twa hae paidl'd in the burn, frae morning sun til dine, but seas between us braid hae roar'd, sin' days of auld lang syne.”_

Gansey had stopped singing, the traitor, but for some reason Ronan didn’t stop when he noticed. He thought about the words, those that it was very possible Adam didn’t understand. Thought of their youth, of wandering the hills of Virginia, of how that seemed like a different world entirely now. He sang the chorus once more, and was met with cheers of his friends afterwards, which only succeeded to embarrass him more.

“Happy, you bastards?” He rubbed a hand over his face.

“Very,” Blue grinned, moving to sandwich herself between Ronan and her boyfriend, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he did so, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He allowed it, because it was Blue and because it was New Year’s but still pulled a face. “You did such a good job, I think that Gansey should get you some of that whiskey he’s been raving about. A drink well deserved.”

Well – Ronan wasn’t going to say no to that, and neither did Gansey. His friends got up, moving to the kitchen in search of more alcohol. He stayed where he was, trying to forget about his mortification, hearing a bottle pop of champagne pop in the kitchen, whoops from Blue and Noah.

He wasn’t alone for long though, as Adam was walking towards him, two glasses of the promised whiskey in hand. He sat beside him and passed him one. Ronan drank.

“What does it mean?” Adam asked, eventually. He tapped his fingers against his glass. “Auld lang syne? I’ve heard the song, but never thought much about it.”

Their shoulders brushed against each other for a moment, and Ronan refrained from closing his eyes. “Days long ago. Friends long ago, that sort of thing.”

“I see,” Adam said. He raised his glass. “For auld lang syne, then.” And he drank.

Ronan watched his profile, eyes moving over his strong jaw, his freckled nose. Then he drank too.

 

***

 

Unlike the others, Ronan believed there was only so much of Chamonix he needed to see. They had wandered around the town for hours, and there was only so much coffee he could drink so keep warm. He couldn’t go back to the slopes, there was no point, with him unable to snowboard or ski or anything. So while the others made the most of their last full day by checking out the town market, Ronan was house bound on his own – well, almost on his own.

Adam had only been able to get the time off work if he finished some lab reports and worked while he was away. He had nearly completed all of it too, but the last one was giving him trouble.

“You look bored as hell,” Ronan commented, pulling out the chair next to Adam at the dining table. He started leafing through some papers.

“Y’know those are technically confidential,” Adam said, not looking away from his laptop.

“Did you become a spy while I was away?” Ronan quipped. He wanted to lean forwards and push into Adam’s space, drag his attention away from this work that was bothering him. Adam laughed at his remark. “C’mon, take a break.”

“It sounds like you’re the one who’s bored.” Adam was deliberately not looking at him now.

“Of course I’m bored.” He leaned of the table, arm on top of the papers. “But you should still take a break. I’m serious, I’ve got an idea.”

His idea was at the back of the chalet, an old barn he had stumbled across while taking Rogue out one morning. When Ronan finally manged to drag him out there, Adam looked unimpressed.

“This is your big idea?”

Ronan tutted. “You lack imagination. Aren’t you interested? That’s a Gansey barn, I bet there’s like, priceless artwork in there. Or at least something we could break.”

He had mocked Gansey, for his nostalgia, for wanting things to be like old times. And here he was, wanting to act like reckless teenagers again. It wasn’t the same as pushing Adam across a supermarket car park in a shopping cart, but it was rooted in roughly the same place. He wanted to see Adam let loose. He wanted to make him laugh, make him breathless.

It didn’t take much convincing, and after some fiddling, it opened with relative ease, its lock old and rusted. Adam rolled his eyes, but led the way into the barn once it was clear, and Ronan followed, the door shutting behind him.

Inside, to begin with, it was just dark. Neither had brought their phones, so Ronan stumbled around the outskirts of the room until he found a sheet covering a window. He yanked it away, creating a strip of light down the centre of the barn which revealed – well not much. There was a lawn mower, some gardening tools he imagined were a lot more necessary in the summer months, and some old arm chairs that obviously had been left there to rot during the last renovation of the chalet.

“This was a stupid idea,” Adam sighed, sounding more disappointed than angry.

Ronan watched as Adam approached the door, as he put his hand on the handle and twisted. He heard a _clank_. Adam froze and then twisted again, but this time the handle didn’t move at all. He tried again, and then once more.

“Ronan.” His voice was dangerously low.

“Move over,” he ordered, trying the door himself. It wouldn’t budge. He shook the door. He barged against it with his shoulder. “Fuck. Damn, ancient piece of shit.”

“Yes, break the door more, that will help.” Ronan shot him a glare, Adam ignored it. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Ronan stared at him. “You’re asking _me_ if I have my phone? The only reason I do phones is to talk to you lot, and we just went over this, no light remember.”

Adam shut his eyes. He couldn’t tell what he was wishing for, but that was definitely what he was doing. Wishing to not be stuck in here, or wishing not to be stuck with Ronan, or wishing for the will power to refrain from hitting Ronan.

“So what do we do?” Ronan asked. Adam had to be coming up with a plan, he always had one.

“We wait?” Adam offered. He crossed the room, pulling the sleeves of his sweater further down his hands. The barn was made from grey, stone bricks and did not conserve heat. “When they get back, we’ll hear the car pull in and they’ll hear us if we shout for them.”

Because that wouldn’t be embarrassing. Ronan huffed, resting his hands behind his head as he paced.

“Unless you think you can get through that window?” Adam suggested, knowing full well it was impossible. It was too high, even if they could get up there, the drop from the other side would be risky. Ronan didn’t want to risk another broken bone. He wasn’t even sure if he could get his broad shoulders through that gap, and had a horrifying mental image of himself wedged in the window, suspended above the ground.

“Waiting it is,” he said.

 Waiting was not his strong suit. But at least in some way he had gotten what he wanted, really. Adam, with no distractions. He watched Adam sink into one of the old arm chairs at the back of the room, picking at the loose stuffing on the arm of it.

“Maybe Rogue will pick up your scent, and go get help or something,” Adam mumbled, clearly not serious.

“Apparently, you think I fucking own Lassie,” Ronan flopped into the arm chair facing Adam, and reminded himself of his dog in that moment. The way she followed Ronan across a room, would sit where he was, wait for his attention. There was a very real root to the phrase ‘puppy love’ and Ronan hated it. “Besides, Noah and Pip-squeak wanted to take her to the market – God knows why.”

“Because she’s cute,” Adam shuffled, making himself comfortable. Before Ronan could make another joke, Adam spoke again. “Let’s talk, pass the time.”

He looked tired, but not the way he used to be. This Adam still knew hard work and sleepless nights, but there wasn’t exhaustion deep set in his eyes, in his fragile bones. In the arm chair, he looked as if he was ready to fall asleep. It made Ronan soft. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about what I’ve missed,” he suggested. “From – from when I left, to last month when we first saw each other again.”

“Damn Parrish, that’s a lot to report,” he said, but he wished there was more he was able to talk about. He hadn’t done nearly as much as he suspected Adam had in that time.

“I think we’ve got the time.” And Ronan couldn’t argue with that – so he told him.

He told him that he stayed at the Barns, racing at night, sleeping during the day, during the first month afterwards, until Declan sold their family home out from under his nose. Now, years later and with a little more perspective, he knew it was the best choice financially, and that in some way Declan thought he was doing it for his own good, but his anger at him at the time, it was unlike any argument they had had before.

He told him that his mum had moved to Ireland and then he did the same, that it felt like an escape, which was the same thing as running away. He had gotten an apartment in Dublin, and started therapy, at his mother’s request and only for her – until it wasn’t. It had helped him in a way he didn’t like to admit, to be able to talk about his father’s death, his trauma, his destructive tendencies. He started photography then, as a positive habit for when he was feeling low.

He told him that he had been visiting his mother in Carlingford, when he learnt that an old farmer had passed away and that his wife didn’t know what she should do with their land or business now. Ronan had bought it off her that weekend on a whim, and hadn’t looked back. He told him he was welcome to visit whenever he wanted.

He didn’t tell him about avoiding Gansey’s invites, because he was sure he already knew. He didn’t tell him about how dearly he missed everyone, but crossing that ocean always seemed like too a big a risk. He didn’t tell him that he thought about him most days. Didn’t tell him that he had thought he missed him in the way you miss anyone you have history with, you miss the idea of the person more than them. Didn’t tell him that since seeing him again he knew he would always burn for him, not an as idea, but the man in front of him. Cold, and distant, and beautiful and determined.

In turn, Adam told him that he had gotten through his first years at Yale on willpower alone, wanting to prove everyone wrong – his parents, all of Henrietta, even Ronan, he admitted, though he knew he never doubted him for a second. Then when graduation came around he felt lost, not with Gansey or the others, not having made friendships at Yale that measured to the ones he used to have, and it was then he started therapy himself, though a few years later than Ronan. He worked through the scars his parents had left, and his isolation. He got an internship at a lab that was trying to develop medicine for certain diseases Ronan hadn’t heard of, and while doing his master’s managed to climb through the company, still working for them now. It was there, he had met Stephanie.

“So,” Ronan tried his best to sound disconnected. “What is it about her then?” Did that sound too pointed? “What I mean is, I wouldn’t have pegged her as your type, is all.”

Adam’s eyes flickered to the corner of the room as he thought. “She’s a lot more than she seems, she’s smart and funny, but that’s not it really. I know she seems sweet – and she is, don’t get me wrong – but she’s also, she doesn’t put up with any shit, y’know?” That sounded more like his type. “I was pretty miserable when we first met, and she really just made me ask why, and I couldn’t give her much of an answer. That’s not all, obviously, but it’s what I appreciate.”

“Are you happy now, Parrish?” Ronan couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course,” Adam replied, but he would be damned if he had imagined him hesitating. He changed the subject. “You have a twang now.”

“I have a what now?” Ronan frowned.

“A _twang_. An Irish twang.” Adam was grinning, as if Ronan’s confusion was amusing. “Don’t look so surprised, you’ve lived there for years. It only comes out with certain words. Or when you get mad.”

“Like what?” Ronan still didn’t believe him.  
“ _Bastards_ ,” he imitated.

“That was God awful,” Ronan cringed. He leaned closer to the man across from him, the devil in his eye. “What about your twang, Mr Southern Gentleman?”

“Oh, you mean this twang?” Adam laid it on thick, drawing out the last word. Ronan still loved the sound, he found. When he spoke next, he had dropped it. “Very rarely makes an appearance.”

“It should more often.”

“You think?” Adam asked. Ronan nodded in reply.

If Adam was going to make another retort, it died as a shiver crawled up his back. How long had they been talking? The room was freezing, and they had been there for a while but Ronan had barely noticed with the conversation, for once, following effortlessly. Adam’s hands were red, white at the knuckles where the bone pushed through.

“You cold?” He asked, despite knowing the answer.

“No, I’m okay-”

Adam began to protest, but Ronan was already shucking his leather jacket, without thinking about it. He swung it, so it landed around Adam’s shoulders, and pulled at the collar to straighten it, keep some warmth in, but his hand froze when he realised how close his hands were to Adam’s neck. He watched his jaw tick, a vein pulse.

Then he was touching Adam’s face.

It wasn’t possible to call it an accident, more instinct than anything. But his hand was there, cupping Adam’s cheek, warm to the touch of his cold bitten fingers. Adam’s eyes widened, but to his surprise he didn’t pull away. Ronan brushed his thumb along Adam’s cheekbone, in the way he had imagined doing this entire trip. Gently, a flutter, barely there.

His heart was racing. If he had any sense at all, he would stop and ask himself what he was doing. Didn’t he know what he was ruining here?

Instead, his thumb drifted lower, brushing the very corner of Adam’s mouth. His eyes darted from Adam’s, to his lips now slightly parted.

Then there was the sound of tires over snow. Of their friends piling out of the SUV. Of his dog barking, all present somewhere in the back of his mind.

He dropped his hand, not meeting Adam’s eye. It was impossible to tell what was going through his head without looking at his face, but Ronan couldn’t bring himself to. A moment past, then Adam stood, Ronan’s jacket falling back onto the arm chair from his shoulders, as he went to go and call to their friends.

 

***

 

It was not like after a fight.

There were no awkward silences, no avoiding each other’s presence, no trying to establish middle ground. For Ronan, this was entirely worse, because Adam acted like nothing had happened.

They talked, but Ronan was not gifted with any privy glances, whenever someone in the group said something they both found particularly stupid. He was not given any eye rolls when he cracked jokes, with the dry, dark sense of humour he knew Adam liked. He was given a fist bump when they said goodbye.

He had declined Gansey’s offer to drive the BWM home for him, in light of his broken arm. He wasn’t worried about the drive and he needed the time to clear his head. He replaced the feeling of Adam’s skin beneath his fingertips with the leather that wrapped around the steering wheel. There was nothing like miles and miles of road to ease out the knot in his chest.

When he got home, two days later, instead of being grateful to walk through the doors of his cottage, he was just met with the feeling of how empty it was. A week living with his friends, always being surrounded by people and noise – hell, even sleeping in Noah’s bed for the entire trip. It had gotten used to it, and that was his first mistake.

He, like the good, responsible friend he was, had checked in with Gansey whenever he stopped on the road, but called him the moment he got in.

“I’m alive, still just the one broken bone,” he shoved the phone between his shoulder and his ear and began opening his cupboards, making a mental note of everything he’d have to buy.

“I’m certainly glad to hear it,” Gansey’s voice was muffled by a yawn. “Sorry, the jet lag.”

“Get some damn sleep then.”

“If it were that easy,” Gansey was smiling on the other end. Ronan could relate. “Thank you for coming, Ronan.”

Ronan stopped his rummaging. “My pleasure, Dick.”

“Will I be seeing you again any time soon?” He could hear the hopefulness he was trying to mask.

“Soon,” Ronan confirmed. “Sometime soon, for sure.”

“That’s good to know,” he sounded relieved. “I’ll let you get on now. Happy New Year, Ronan Lynch.” And it meant, _I hope it’s a great one._

After they hung up, Ronan found himself slumped on his sofa, unsure of what to do with himself. Then his phone pinged.

_Adam Parrish: Did you die?_

His pulse quickened, as he opened the message, far too quickly. Adam could see when he had, but he didn’t care.

_Ronan Lynch: miraculously, no_

He watched as the message was read, and then he watched as the three dots signalling Adam replying, bounced up and down for what seemed like an age.

_Adam Parrish: Glad to hear it._

The dots reappeared and then vanished. Seconds past and they were there again.

_Adam Parrish: So how’s Ireland?_

If Ronan was smart, he would save himself from later trouble now, kill the conversation and let Adam go on with his life. But he wasn’t smart, he was very selfish, and craved every part of Adam Parrish he could get. And with an ocean between them, was there really much that could go wrong? He replied.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! That was a lot really - hope it wasn't too rambly. I know, I'm a complete sucker for the holidays, so if you were interested, the version of Auld Lang Syne I listened too while writing this (the most popular version I'm pretty sure? it's probably the one you know) and also the cabin I found while researching, which is closest to what I imagined the Gansey chalet being like. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14mFabPxk80
> 
> https://www.chamonixskichalets.com/all-our-chamonix-chalets/property/sleeps+up+to+12/chalet+carya.html
> 
> If you wanted to leave a comment or kudos, that would be amazing! I'll be back soon, hopefully, providing life doesn't get in the way <3


	3. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s going on?” 
> 
> There was near silence in response, but he heard Adam draw a shaky breath. He was thinking, working out how to go about this. What did it mean, Ronan wondered, that his instinct was to call first, think later?
> 
> “You’ve got to let me finish before you panic, okay?” Ronan grunted in response. “It’s Blue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! I was so hoping to get this chapter out today, I know the holidays can be rough for a lot of people, so the least I can give is a new chapter - but uh, this is pretty angsty even by my standards so I'm sorry for that. I'm actually really nervous about posting this chapter, a lot happens and I'm a bit concerned about pacing and characterisation but hey ho, anything really awful let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. Thank you so much to anyone who's taken time to kudos or comment or read, all of it, ily all. Enjoy! 
> 
> (Also, warning for the beginning of the chapter, a character goes into hospital. It's okay, but there is some angst surrounding it. If you want any more info or triggers feel free to shoot me a message and I can explain.) 
> 
> (Also also, please take a peak at the end notes too!)

Spring seemed to be filled with important phone calls. Ronan got the first at 2AM on a Wednesday night.

He woke to the buzz of his phone on his bedside table, where it was charging because that was something he did now, and to Rogue grumbling beside him, annoyed at being woken. The name on its screen was enough to clear his sleep fogged thoughts. 

_ADAM PARRISH CALLING …_

He sat up.

Adam had messaged him that first day, when Ronan had gotten home from France, and since then they spoke regularly, almost daily. He would get a message from Adam, moaning about rush hour in New York, or picture of a burger, or once a picture of his name on his lab coat. Ronan replied with complaints about locals at the market, and videos of Rogue with his commentary. “You’re supposed to bring the ball back, you stupid animal.”

They didn’t say hello, didn’t ask how things were, didn’t keep up with each other’s lives. They certainly did not mention fiancées, or weddings. They absolutely did not mention the way Ronan had reached out to touch Adam’s face in that old barn, the almost kiss. And they didn’t call. 

“Parrish?” He answered, lifting his other hand to rub at his eyes and remembering his cast as it stopped him.

“Ronan?”

Ronan had gone from asleep, to awake, to alert. For one thing, Adam hadn’t called him Lynch, but more pressing was tone to his voice. It was low, slightly strained. Too serious.

“Adam, what’s going on?” His voice was raspy.

“God, I didn’t think about the time difference. It must be like one in the morning there,” Ronan hated that he could hear it, recognise the way he sounded after waking.

"Two,” he corrected. And then, with more urgency, he repeated. “What’s going on?”

There was near silence in response, but he heard Adam draw a shaky breath. He was thinking, working out how to go about this. What did it mean, Ronan wondered, that his instinct was to call first, think later?

“You’ve got to let me finish before you panic, okay?” Ronan grunted in response. “It’s Blue.”

Unfortunately, despite agreeing to listen and then panic, his mind began to race. Adam’s sombre tone did nothing to still the fear beginning to wrap around his throat.

“She was in an accident, some lunatic ran a red light and hit her.”

Ronan was out of bed and grabbing his duffle while Adam continued.

“She’s okay – well, she’s stable. She’s got a minor head injury, and there’s some bad damage to her torso, they said something about her collar bones and she needs surgery, but it could be hours.”

He was either breathing too heavily or not at all, he couldn’t really tell. Trying to pack with his cast hand wasn’t working, but when he crammed the phone between his ear and shoulder he found his other hand was shaking.

“Ronan, are you listening? They said it could be hours – that’s a good thing. She’s not a priority. She’s not awake right now, but that’s just because she’ll be in a lot of pain when she is. Which means she’s going to be fine.”

How did he sound so far removed? Ronan knew, of course, that he was talking to Adam Parrish in survival mode – as if he wasn’t always. Although it was possible that maybe these days he wasn’t. But still Ronan couldn’t work out how to mimic his steady calm.  

“Gansey?” He managed to ask, not liking how croaky he sounded. 

There was a sigh on the other end. “Not doing great. He’s with her now, he called me on his way to the hospital and I only met him here about half an hour ago. He’s shaken and he’s panicking. Not that I’d expect much else right now.”

“I’m on my way.”

“You’re – what? Lynch, it’s the middle of the night you can’t just pack up and-”

“I can. I am. You really expect me to just sit here?” Adam didn’t reply. “I’m getting the first flight out, I don’t know how long that will be.”

For a moment, neither spoke. He wondered if Adam could hear him tearing clothes off hangers and stuffing them into his bag, shaking hands be damned – though they had quelled somewhat with Adam’s reassurance – which means she’s going to be fine. He trusted Adam. But he knew this lump in his throat wouldn’t disappear until he saw that for himself.

When had the maggot wormed her way into his chest like this? The idea of her, so strong and triumphant, now hurting and broken, unsettled something in him. It was an image he struggled to conjure.

“Let me know,” Adam said. “I’ll be there. To pick you up.”

“I’ll see you then.”

 

***

 

The flight to New York was the longest eight hours he had ever experienced. After he got off the phone with Adam, he called his mother, apologised for the late hour and explained what had happened. Perhaps she noticed his gruff tone and blunt words that screamed worried, nervous, scared, because she told him to come and drop Rogue off on his way to the airport. He left his car at hers and used an all-night taxi service, to find out that the next flight wasn’t until 7AM.

That was manageable though, because he was able to snag a seat on it and Adam sent him updates while he waited, though not much changed. He lay across a whole row of seats in the waiting area and bought far too many sweets at duty free for the others to try. He doubted anyone would care when he got there about having jelly babies or pear drops for the first time, but it distracted him for a while, trying to work out who would like what best.

On the plane was worse, suspended in the air without any news on how things were fairing. It was likely that Blue would go in and come out of surgery while he was flying and being out of the know was making his stomach churn. He thought of Gansey, near tearing his hair out waiting. He put on his headphones, no doubt annoying the old woman next to him with his EDM vibrating through them, and folded his arms across his pull-out table, practically counting down the minutes.

When he landed, evading the hell of baggage claims with his carry on, he realised that he had no idea what Adam’s car looked like and that they hadn’t arranged to meet anywhere in the mad rush. It didn’t matter, it turned out, because Adam was waiting for him, stood among families and taxi drivers holding signs with names.  

In New York it was now 9AM, and Adam was dressed in slacks, an olive button up and the same grey coat Ronan had seen him in last time. His dusty brown hair was swept to one side in a change, and his eyes were lined with faint bags.

“Hey,” he said, when Ronan approached him.

Ronan nodded. There was the pang in his chest he felt every time he laid eyes on Adam, but today it was masked by something else. “How is she?”

“Good,” Adam nodded, turning to lead the way to his car. “She was out of surgery when I left. She broke both her collar bones and they had to realign them, but everything went well. She’ll be waking up soon.”

When they reached the car, Adam slipped the duffle bag off of Ronan’s shoulder and gestured for him to get in while he opened the trunk. This was strange, Ronan decided. He was used to being the one driving, in his own car. It would be much harder to stop himself from sneaking glances at the man beside him without the road to focus on.

He knew Adam could tell that he was tense. He didn’t attempt small talk, just turned on the radio and tried to escape morning traffic, leaving Ronan to stew in his thoughts for a while. And just as Adam knew him, Ronan knew that Adam’s distance wasn’t personal. He hadn’t been expecting a warm greeting, and he wasn’t upset to not have gotten one. Ronan loved Blue, more than he would ever admit, but he also knew that her and Adam were probably closer. Adam was just getting through the day.

“Have you been home yet?” Ronan asked, drinking in Adam’s appearance again while his eyes were pointed safely ahead.

“No,” Adam moved his hand along the steering wheel, his long fingers brushing against the leather while he waited to move. “That obvious?” 

“Nah,” he replied, honestly. Someone who knew Adam wouldn’t have noticed the slight creases in his shirt, the way his hair was ruffled. “You need sleep.”

Adam scoffed. “Yeah, and I bet you spent those eight hours napping,” he said, sarcasm echoing through the words. He had a point.

He watched as they began to pick up pace, watched Adam change gears as they lurched forwards, his jaw set. There was an impatient frustration in the jerk of his movements, one Ronan could recognise from their teenage years – when everything was more out of their control and that more frightening. They were the actions of someone who was feeling helpless. Or in Adam’s case, useless. They were the same thing to him.

“Hey,” Ronan almost barked. He was fighting the urge to place his hand over Adam’s at the gear stick. “Dick’s lucky you’re around.”

Somewhere in those words, there was an apology that he wasn’t. He didn’t know if it was meant for Adam or Gansey or Blue, though.

Adam snorted. “I don’t know about that. Cheng and Noah were by last night, and they’ll be back soon. They probably helped more than me.”

“That’s bull.” Ronan watched Adam’s profile as he quirked a brow, not taking his eyes off the road. “Cheng probably ordered the nurses around and Noah, I bet was near mute. That’s not what they need.”

“Yeah, why do you think I called you,” Adam waited for Ronan to reply, but continued when he didn’t. “He needs you. He needs you to stroll in and tell a joke and make him smile about something. Or whatever it is you think will work, you know better than me. He needs comfort, and I – well, I don’t do that.”

“You do.”

Adam shook his head, a bitter smile curving at his lips.

“You’ve comforted me,” Ronan said. Adam’s lips parted slightly, as if there were words that had planned to escape but had gotten lost on the way. “So what, you’re not the kinda person to murmur in his ear and tell him she’s gonna get through this. You’re the kind to tell him that collar bones heal easily. Or that realistically it could have been a lot worse. You’re gonna listen to the doctor while he’s too out of it to take any of it in. He needs _that_.”

He wanted to say more. To tell Adam that he didn’t need to worry about being soft because he didn’t need to be, not because he was incapable of it. He was a pillar, something to lean against, something that helped bear the weight. Everything felt a little less frightening knowing that you had someone to help hold you up.

Adam didn’t reply, but flexed his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles bobbing like piano keys. A few minutes past, Ronan watched New York roll past the window, and then Adam spoke. “I wish I could do more.”

“There’s not much to do,” he shrugged, knowing that Adam could see straight through his strained attempt at casual. “You’re here, and you’ll be here. That’s enough.”

 

***

They didn’t talk for the rest of the journey, but it was only twenty minutes or so until they arrived at the hospital. Adam parked, paid for their stay and led the way through the entrance. From there Ronan followed as Adam navigated their way up stairs and through a set of doors to a waiting room, smaller than the others they had walked by. A sign on the wall pointed one way to the cardiology wards, orthopaedics in the other. Ronan took a seat while Adam approached the desk.

“Can you let Richard Gansey know we’re here, please?” He asked, leaning against the counter. 

The nurse said it would be just a moment, so Adam returned and sat down beside him. He knocked his knee against Ronan, a gesture that was impossible to tell if intentional or not, but Ronan felt a surge of comfort at the touch. It was like his lungs were filling properly for the first time since he got the call.

“She’s not allowed non-family visitors until she’s awake,” Adam explained, folding his hands in his lap. “Her mom and the others are here too, but I think they’re in the cafeteria right now. It’s a good thing she put Gansey as her emergency contact or he’d be truly besides himself.”

Ronan hummed in agreement, willing to bet the only time she had been out of Gansey’s sight was for the surgery. He was distracted from his thoughts as the man himself pushed through the double doors.

Gansey was a mess, in a way that was jarring because it fell under the general description of a mess, not a mess by the standards of Richard Campbell Gansey III. His hair was mussed to one side and he wore a button up similar to Adam’s, only creased far worse and untucked. Beneath his glasses, his eyes were red rimmed. He looked up as he entered the room, and locked eyes with Ronan.

“Ronan.”

He didn’t say his last name, but Ronan could tell what it meant anyway. The puff of air he exhaled before it left his lips was one of relief, and Ronan was briefly so thankful that sight of him had encouraged his best friend to finally take a breath. He didn’t miss the way his voice sounded thick, a struggle against sandpaper to get his name out.

“Hey Dick,” he said, trying to summon that vicious smile of his.

When Gansey crossed the room and hugged him, Ronan didn’t shrug him off as he might have done before, nor did he just go along with it, knowing it made his friend happy, as he had been doing as of late. Gansey crushed himself against him, and Ronan wrapped his arms around Gansey’s broad shoulders. It was a fierce embrace, Ronan squeezing back as tightly as he could with one cast clad hand, as if it would put some life back into his friend the more ferociously he responded. He could feel Adam watching this uncharacteristic display, but it didn’t matter. He heard Gansey sigh against his ear, and then his body sag slightly.

When they parted, there were fresh tears in Gansey’s eyes, but he gave a weak smile and Ronan took that as enough. 

“She gave me quite a fright, I think,” he said, reaching underneath his glasses to swipe at his eyes, before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, well we all knew that Sargent’s tougher than you.” Ronan slid his hands back into his pockets.

Gansey laughed and even though Ronan hadn’t intended it to be funny, he was glad to hear it. “That she is. She’s awake, a bit groggy but she said you guys can come say hello if you want.”

They did want, so they followed Gansey back the way he had entered from, and watched as he said hello to the nurses. Ronan was unsurprised to learn that he had already learnt most of their names. Though bumbling and unintentionally rude sometimes, even if years with Blue had done a considerable amount to work at that, they were charmed by his tireless devotion. The rule was two guests to a bed, but they waved the three along anyway.

The most shocking thing about Blue’s state, was that someone had brushed her hair – likely while she had been unconscious. It didn’t stick up at all angles, but lay against her face, nearly shadowing the road rash that grazed her cheek. Both of her arms were in slings, crossing at her torso, and there was a bandage on her forehead. Other than that, she looked tired and Ronan felt as though a physical weight had been lifted from his body seeing her for himself.

When they entered, Blue’s eyes fluttered open gently as she heard the door click shut. They wavered heavily, but there was a small smile on her lips.

“What are you doing here, Lynch?” She mumbled. “Don’t you have a farm to run or something?” 

The grin Ronan had tried to force earlier came with ease, now that Blue was here and joking with him. It curved across his mouth, his signature, dangerous smile. “I had to come out here and tell you you’re an asshole.”

Blue laughed, and then winced slightly. Gansey ignored the seat beside her and stood by the head of the bed, ducking to press a kiss the unbandaged part of her forehead.

“You just had to try and one up me.” He waved his cast in her direction. She rolled her eyes and Ronan thought that was a victory. “You’re high as kite, right now, huh. They got you on the good stuff, maggot?”

“The best,” Blue nodded, a hazy smile crossing her face. “Hey Adam, you been here long?”

Adam was leaning at the foot of the bed, both arms bracing on the bar that went across it. “A while, we spoke before your surgery but I doubt you remember that.”

There was a smirk, somewhere around the corners of his mouth. Ronan couldn’t tell if he was trying to supress it or conjure it, but it didn’t make a full appearance regardless.

After a while, after Blue told Gansey that, yes, her pain meds were working, and no, she didn’t need another pillow, Adam excused himself. He was going to call Stephanie and fill her in. Gansey followed, going to find Maura and Calla and Persephone who had driven up as soon as they got the news.

Ronan took the seat beside Blue and dragged it to the foot of her bed so she didn’t have to turn to speak to him. He sat, and threw his boots up onto her bed, with disguised care not to jostle her. She watched, and then her eyes flickered to the door and then back to Ronan.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked.

Those were words that could strike fear into his heart, knowing that conversations that followed were often uncomfortable, the type of thing that he actively avoided. But Blue was on the verge of sleep again, her voice slurring a tiny amount.

“Go on,” he agreed, nudging her leg gently with the toe of his boot.

“Do you,” she paused, rewording in her mind. “Do you think Gansey wants to get married?”

Ronan blinked. That was not what he had been expecting.

“Near death experience give you a change of heart?”

“No,” she wrinkled her nose. “No. I don’t know. Maybe? I just hear him talking about the wedding sometimes,” she didn’t need to specify what wedding, “and I don’t think he likes the doctors calling him my boyfriend.”

“It’s not enough,” Ronan summarised. He heard Blue and Gansey refer to themselves as partners before, and maybe that encapsulated their relationship better – boyfriend sounded almost trivial.

“It’s not enough,” Blue nodded, as if to say exactly. “Do you think he thinks about it? Does he want that?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “You must have lost a lot of brain cells there.” Blue narrowed hers. “Obviously, it’s Gansey. He’s like, the king of ceremony and tradition and all that shit.”

“Ugh,” Blue groaned, rolling her head back against the pillows to look at the ceiling.

“He’s not going to ask though, if that’s what you’re worried about. Sure, he’d like the whole, proclaiming his adoration of you in front of all your friends and family, and all that to have and to hold bullshit. I think he likes the idea of being your husband more than you being his wife, y’know? He’s not looking to make you his or whatever. He just likes the idea of always being there, which he will be whether you tie the knot or not. He’s happy as it is, and he knows you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Blue said. “I just never agreed with the idea of like, one person for life and its legally binding and taking a last name – ugh, could you imagine me as Blue Gansey?”

“Blue Sargent-Gansey?” Ronan suggested, amused by her spiel.

“Blue Sargent,” she corrected, and then her eyes grew a little wider. “Richard Campbell Gansey-Sargent. The first.”

A bark of laughter escaped Ronan at that. He received a glare from a passing nurse at its volume.

“But I also, I just don’t feel as strongly about it as I did. If it would mean a lot to him?” She went to shrug but sucked air in through her teeth, a hiss of pain.

“Yeah, well, why don’t you sleep on it, maggot.” He removed his feet from her bed and stood. With one hand he reached down to ruffle her hair, she pressed up to the touch, almost cat like and when he was done her hair was messy once again. “Much better.”

 

***

 

They spent the rest of the day in the hospital, Noah and Henry arrived and Ronan got another hug from the former – though he didn’t return it as tightly as Gansey’s, he kept an arm around the smaller man’s shoulder for a little while. Noah being quieter than usual was disconcerting, though Henry seemed to agree with Ronan that Blue would be just fine, even if her recovery would be a bitch.

With her medication and how drained the whole ordeal had left her, they didn’t actually see Blue that much. She slept on and off, with Maura or Gansey or both always by her bedside. The psychics were as sharp and quick tongued as usual, and it occurred to Ronan this was the first time he had seen them in six years. They hadn’t changed much, Persephone still dressed ethereally, Calla still called him “snake,” and Maura was still managed to be stern and caring, in a way that was familiar to Ronan despite his mother being seemingly a much softer creature.

Gansey disappeared around dinner time to change and shower, after he had been given the okay to stay overnight – despite hospital policy, he had been permitted to stay, to sleep with his feet up in the arm chair that had been added to Blue’s room. She protested initially, but put up less of a fight than Ronan expected, still tired and he was willing to bet that despite the hovering and doting, Gansey’s company was the best comfort she had. When he came back, he pressed his apartment keys into Ronan’s hand.

“You’ve had a long day,” he said. There were few traces of the panicked Gansey he saw earlier, having stitched himself together with clean clothes and the knowledge that Blue was out of the woods and relying on him. “Head back to ours and we’ll see you tomorrow. You can have our bed or if you want the couch you know where the blankets are.”

Ronan gave him a nod, shaking the keys from their ring. He jolted when he felt a hand on his back.

“I’ll drive you there,” Adam was behind him, and now removing his hand. Ronan could feel his fingertips trail away. “I won’t subject you to the subway.”

“So kind,” Ronan turned to pull a face at Adam, and found him standing much closer than he had thought he was. Here, he could see the freckles dotted across his nose. If the proximity was intentional, Adam showed no sign of it, brushing past to squeeze Gansey’s shoulder and make his way to the car.

 

***

 

When they reached Blue and Gansey’s apartment, having crawled their way through traffic at a snail’s pace, they took the stairs up at similar, lethargic speed. Suddenly Ronan’s legs felt like lead, and he gripped the banister to pull himself up as much as steady himself. He was used to living with next to no sleep, but the anxiety he had felt over the past twenty hours – thirty-six hours, perhaps, he didn’t know and couldn’t find the energy to count – had taken its toll on his body. The prospect of Blue and Gansey’s lumpy couch was more appealing than it had ever been.

Adam walked ahead of him, not bothering to fill the silence with a conversation they were both too tired to keep up with. He reached their door first, and leaned against the wall while Ronan caught up. If he took an even slower pace to watch Adam, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, his neck taunt and bare, then no one would ever know.

He let them both inside with the key Gansey had trusted him with and headed straight to their lounge, dumping his duffle bag onto the floor and dropping onto the couch. “I’m not moving for another ten hours,” he announced.

Behind him, in the kitchen area, he could hear Adam moving. He heard him open a cupboard, the clink of a glass, the tap running. He could see Adam’s motions in his mind, and let his eyes shut, just listening. “See if they’ve got any food, will you?”

Ronan waited, but there wasn’t a response. No more movement either. His eyes opened but he didn’t turn around to look for him yet. “Parrish?”

When there was still no answer, Ronan stood and saw Adam bracing himself on the counter by the sink, his hands gripping the edge, his back to him. At some point Adam had removed his coat and Ronan could see the way his shoulder blades inched towards each other with this outstretched arms through the material of his shirt. He was crossing to the kitchen without pausing to consider the best course of action.

He stopped in front of the fridge, just as Adam turned his head to look at him. He wasn’t crying but his eyes were wet, glistening, and he squeezed them shut for a second before speaking.

“Sorry,” Ronan hated that this was the first thing that had left his lips. “First chance I’ve had to really stop. Think it’s all catching up with me.”

“You need some sleep,” he wondered if Adam knew this was his way of saying, _it’s okay, you can rest now._ Away from the hospital, away from the others, he was allowed to be softer here, if that was what he wanted.

Adam ignored the suggestion. “There was a moment – when I first found out, I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Ronan nodded, remembering the same feeling when Adam had called him.

“Kinda feels like I’m just remembering how to now,” Adam admitted, with a humourless smile that failed to cover a shaky breath. Slowly, he was losing his composure, beginning to crumple. “Jesus, Ronan – I can’t imagine if, if things had gone-”

He didn’t finish trying to get the words out, but he didn’t need to, Ronan’s own mind had shared the same thought, and he kept it a bay barely with the image of all of his friends in one place and Blue smiling despite everything.

Adam was failing to push the thought away though, evident in trembling hands leaving the counter. There was the same set to his jaw that he had seen in the car, an angry type of anguish.

For once, Ronan didn’t stop himself from reaching out.

He clasped around Adam’s shaking wrist to pull him towards him and released it when he was flush against his chest, instead resting his hand on Adam’s back.

When Adam didn’t move away, the other hand came up to cradle his head, allowing his fingers to brush through Adam’s hair. He exhaled when Adam did, losing himself to the sensation of Adam’s hands grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt, his chin on his shoulder.

“It didn’t,” Ronan muttered, his voice low. “You can’t bother imagining if things had gone differently, because the way it happened is all there is.”

It wasn’t the fierce hug he had shared with Gansey. This was gentle, so Adam could slip from his arms the moment he wanted to. It was loose limbed, the stroke of fingers along his back, fingers threaded in his hair. Adam stayed.

As much as they loved Blue, and were both equal parts distraught by her accident and thankful for the good news, Ronan knew the feeling they shared ran deeper than that. It could have been any one of them, Gansey or Henry or Noah, and it could have been worse. It wasn’t worth dwelling on now.

“She’s okay,” Adam murmured.

“She is. So are you.”

He could feel, as well as hear, as Adam’s breath began to even out again, and when he was certain it had he let go. He missed the touch instantly, but didn’t want to linger, knowing that Adam would be far more uncomfortable with the aftermath than the contact - not to mention the flush that was swiftly rising to his cheeks as he became aware of what exactly he had just done.

“Do you want Indian or Chinese? Where do they keep their menus?” He asked, leaving the kitchen and Adam standing in the middle of it.

 

***

 

The next morning Ronan took full advantage of being in Adam’s car. He had asked to drive initially, but Adam had said he didn’t trust Ronan’s patience behind his wheel in New York traffic. Ronan didn’t agree outright (“Who even drives in New York anyway?”) but made the most of the opportunity to watch Adam drive. And when that got too much, when he struggled to follow what small talk was being made because he was watching the way Adam’s hair curled at the nape of his neck, he turned to the radio.

“How is it impossible to find a good station?” He complained, barely waiting to hear what each was playing. “New York sucks.”

“Ah, yes, because Carlingford has all the best music,” Adam smirked. Ronan tried to ignore that fact that Adam had remembered the name of his village.

“If you like folk music, sure.” He opened the storage in the centre console, searching for something to play. “C’mon Parrish, you must have a CD or something in here.”

“You know everyone uses Spotify now, right?”

“What’s that?” Ronan teased, rummaging among receipts to find something.

“You’re impossible.” Ronan reached for the glove box and it was as if Adam woke up. He batted his hand away, keeping one hand on the wheel. “Quit it Lynch, I don’t have any music.”

Sensing Adam’s sudden alertness, Ronan grinned. “Really? Because it seems to me like you might. What guilty pleasure is it, then? ABBA?”

“Lynch, stop,” Adam sounded serious, trying to tear his hands away as they darted back towards the box.

They squabbled for a moment, Ronan thoroughly amused until he put up both of his hand in submission. Adam muttered, returning both of his to the wheel. They sat in silence for a moment, and Ronan waited for his chance. It arose when Adam had to take a right, and he knew he wouldn’t risk diverting his attention from the road. He moved swiftly, opening the glove box and stuck his hand inside, until his fingers found a little plastic rectangle.

“Bingo,” he said, latching on to the cassette tape.

“Ronan.”

His hand stilled, as Adam’s voice sounded more like a plea than a warning, but it was too late now, curiosity gnawing at him like a hunger.

He glanced down at the tape in his hands, flipping it over to see the label. _SHIT BOX SING ALONG,_ read his own handwriting. Years had passed and the marker scrawled along the plastic was fading, but it was unmistakable.

His heart was hammering. Had Adam always kept this in his car? He must have swapped it in whenever he got rid of the original shit box if so. Had he dug it out when they reconnected? Did he listen to it? Did he play it when Stephanie was in the car? Ronan prayed not, he hoped that Adam played it when he drove alone, and imagined Ronan in the seat beside him, the same way Ronan couldn’t help but wish Adam occupied the BMW’s passenger seat whenever he went for late night drives.

Adam’s silence was making the car seem a lot smaller than it was. When Ronan looked to him, his eyes didn’t leave the road. He saw the way his lips pressed against each other into a hard, resigned line.

Words were failing Ronan, only because none of what he wanted to say was appropriate. This didn’t change anything. Adam hadn’t wanted him to see, and it was probably for that very reason. He didn’t hold any candles, didn’t want to suggest the wrong thing and lead Ronan astray. Ronan swallowed. “It’s good to see you still know what good music is.”

Adam’s eyes flicked towards him for a moment, a cautious lift to his chin. Ronan stared back at him, an honest gaze that he hoped conveyed that it was okay. _Forget about it, man,_ he wanted it to say, _no mixed signals here, no crossed wires. I’ll keep my feelings to myself._

Eventually, Adam gave a slow nod, and turned back to the road. Ronan put the radio back on.

He was lying to himself though, he knew this as his he shut the tape away again, already missing the smooth plastic beneath his fingers. It was impossible to tell how long he could bury his feelings for Adam, somewhere deep inside his chest. Each and every moment they shared had them clawing their way out.

Before he knew he had a time restraint. _You can have Adam until the wedding._ Now there was another. _You can have Adam until you tell him you love him and ruin it all._ He didn’t know which would run out first.

 

***

 

Blue was discharged a day later, much to her pleasure. While she in the hospital, when she her medication dosage had been lowered and she was regaining her usual feisty demeanour, she had sent for Noah and Ronan to come to her room. There she explained that before the accident she had been working on a clothes order for a client after some of her designs. Now, with both arms in slings, it was impossible for her to complete the pieces.

“That’s where you guys come in,” she had said. “Ronan, you’re in town for a few days still and you two are the only ones in the group with an artistic bone somewhere in your body – don’t look at me like that, you’re a photographer it counts – I need you to help me finish them.”

That was how on Blue’s first night back in the apartment, Ronan had ended up sat cross legged on the floor, surrounded by swaths of material and a needle in his hand. Blue was watching on the couch beside Adam, occasionally barking instructions. Thankfully, Blue’s designs were surreal enough that the client might not notice the stitching was slightly messy underneath the layers of pattern and netting, although if he was to say so himself, he was doing quite a good job. His cast was bulky, but his fingers could grip the needle while the other hand steadied the material.

Adam, the bastard, was exempt from the task, on the excuse that he didn’t know anything about fashion, despite Ronan not having the faintest idea either, and knowing that Adam was far better with hands than he was. He jabbed himself with the needle.

“Fuck!” He put his finger to his mouth, sucking on the bead of blood rising there. “I feel like I’m in a fucking sweat shop.”

“I don’t think that’s very PC, Ronan,” Noah remarked.

“Fine, I feel like I’m in a slightly more dysfunctional Santa’s workshop. Better?”

“Much." 

Noah was clearly enjoying the work, having nearly finished the skirt he was working on. Good, Ronan thought, he could finish his once he was done. He had taken his finger away from his lips to talk, but pressed it back there when, upon inspection, it was still threatening to bleed on the material he was working with. As he did so, he became aware of Adam’s eyes on him, following the movement. He looked up and for a split second their eyes met, then Adam’s darted down to his mouth and the finger trapped between his lips, and then away again as Noah spoke.

“Have you got Tinder, Ronan?” It was impossible to miss the mischievous lilt to his voice.

“What do you think?” He bit, returning back to his sewing. He prayed the tips of his ears weren’t going red.

“I was only gonna say make sure you’ve got it turned on here if so,” Noah twisted to look at Blue and Adam. “If he gets a boyfriend in New York, it’ll be all the more reason to visit us.”

“I see you lot plenty.”

“If you haven’t got an account I can set one up for you?”

“Why would I want that?”

Noah shrugged. “It’ll be fun for me, and you never know right?” He had already made a grab for his phone. Ronan didn’t bother with a passcode, considering he rarely used the thing, but he was regretting that now as Noah tapped away, crossing to the sofa and inserting himself between Blue and Adam. “Help me pick some pictures. Which one says approachable?”

Ronan groaned, lying back against the carpet and abandoning the shirt he had been working on. He listened as they crafted him a profile, choosing what they clearly saw as his best bits to advertise – his dog, his photography, a picture Blue had taken off him at the bar last time he was in New York, looking thoroughly bored but also, as Noah had worded it, “hot shit.”

It was impossible not to notice Adam’s lack of participation. He lifted his chin, just enough to glimpse the man. Adam was watching the screen held in between them, his brows furrowed, pinching in a way that shouldn’t have been cute, but was.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Ronan threw out there. “I’m not interested.”

“How do you know that?” Noah frowned. “You haven’t seen anyone on it yet.”

“Don’t need to.” For once in his life he knew what was good for him, and avoided Adam’s eyes. “Like I said – I’m not interested.”

This seemed to placate Noah, who gave an exaggerated sigh, but tossed his phone back to him. Ronan didn’t reach for the phone when it didn’t quite reach him, but let it lay near him on the carpet.

It didn’t matter what his friends thought, if he was being dramatic or not – being single and without Adam was better than finding someone else and wishing it was him. He wouldn’t subject himself, or someone else for that matter, to brand of torture.

When he returned to sewing, he chanced a look at Adam to find he was already being watched. His face hadn’t relaxed and his brain obviously going a mile a minute, processing and dissecting every thought the moment it entered his head. What Ronan wouldn’t give for just a single insight.

“What?” Ronan asked, when neither looked away.

It wasn’t an answer to his question, and both of them knew that, but Adam got up from the sofa. “Give it here,” his hands reaching towards the shirt and the needle, grazing Ronan’s as he removed them from his grasp. “Before you take your eye out or something.”

Adam sat down next to him, his thigh pressed against Ronan’s while he took over.

***

 

Stephanie arrived at Blue and Gansey’s apartment with an obtusely large bouquet of flowers, brimming with blue and pink petals and sprigs of greenery. Ronan accepted them when he answered to door, mumbling something about getting some water for them in return of her cheery hello.

“Steph!” Blue smiled, ignoring Ronan’s sneer. When had she become ‘Steph’? “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Adam’s fiancée hadn’t bothered taking her coat off when she stepped inside, but did cross to perch on the edge of the couch. She crossed one leg over the other, her boot hovering just above the floor, and folded her hands in her lap. Ronan’s attention couldn’t help but drift to the ring there.

“I thought I’d pop by before heading over to Angela’s,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

 “Oh, of course, that’s today isn’t it?” Blue shuffled back further, so she could bring her legs onto the couch too. She turned to Ronan, including him despite knowing full he wasn’t interested in the explanation. “Stephanie invited me to go cake tasting with her.”

Her voice said, “isn’t that nice?” Her tight, strained expression read, “is it really such a shame I was hit by a car?”

“That’s why I’m here actually,” Stephanie uncrossed her legs and swivelled to face Ronan. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

Ronan snorted, and then realised she wasn’t joking.

“It’s okay if you’re busy. I just thought it might be nice, it’s rare that you’re in town, and Adam’s working. It would be good to get to know each other a little better, don’t you think?”

Despite everything, even Ronan could admit her smile was charming, the way it curled at the edges of her eyes. It was natural and organic and Ronan hated how nice she was.

Could she figure out, he wondered, from one conversation that he was still infatuated with Adam? He hoped not. It didn’t matter anyway, because there was no way in hell he would ever be going cake testing with the girl Adam was going to marry. He had more self-preservation than that - it wasn’t happening.

 

***

 

Angela’s was actually a very popular bakery, he discovered. Appointments to taste for occasions were booked months in advanced, let alone an actual consultation for a cake. Inside everything was pastel and pristine, something that struck Ronan as too clean from where he was seated, at a circular table by the window. On a platter in front of him and Stephanie were eleven different flavours. 

His legs were too long to settle comfortably beneath the table, he couldn’t stretch them out without invading Stephanie’s space, so he spread them and hunched forwards to rest his arms on the table. He thought he probably stuck out like a sore thumb here, his rough edges and dark clothes tainting the scene of the delicate little bakery. Stephanie didn’t seem to mind.

“So, Ireland?” She asked. In front of her she had laid out a neat little notebook, jotting down notes after each bite of cake she tasted in elegant cursive.

“Ireland,” Ronan nodded, unsure of what she wanted him to say.

“You moved there when you were eighteen, right?” He nodded again. “Woah, that’s amazing. Just moving somewhere entirely new. That’s brave.”

He shrugged, not wanting to point out that the urge to escape is a good motivator.

“Y’know, at the chalet, that’s the first time I’ve been out of the states?” If she was looking for a response, Ronan wouldn’t give one. “My dad got sick when I was little, I spent a lot of my time as a teen looking after him. After that it was just, college, and work and career, get an apartment – get engaged.” She smiled at that last one, though.

“After that?” Ronan quoted, catching the way she spoke the words. He did his best to sound uninterested.

“After he passed, I mean.” Stephanie’s eyes darted down, to her notebook. There was a practiced smile to her lips, one that Ronan knew, though he never used it himself. It was the one Declan used when people brought up their father – a pressed, sad thing. “I feel like I should know better than anyone that life’s short, but it still feels like it’s just flying by. There’s still lots I want to do.”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Ronan said, surprised that he meant it. While the conversation was awkward, not flowing easily at all, he liked Stephanie and how everything with her was well-meant. And he also hated that. “Mine too.”

That slither of information was an offering, evident by the way he didn’t meet her eye when he said it, just gazed out of the window. Stephanie accepted it and to Ronan’s relief, she merely tucked it away. It had taken a long time for Ronan to get to a place where he could talk about his father freely, but still, this was all he was willing to share with her. He ate a forkful of the lemon flavour.

“Listen, Ronan,” Stephanie sat forward. “I wanted to invite you to the wedding.”

His fork stilled as he went to return it to the platter. In favour of answering, he merely shovelled another bite into his mouth.

“Adam said we shouldn’t put any pressure on you, what with you having the farm to run and having to fly out. But you’re important to him, anyone with eyes can see that. I think it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

As he took his time to chew, he considered his options. He could flat out refuse, which was exactly what he wanted to do, but knew that would make this awkward excursion even worse. He could accept, and go, which would probably lead to the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Or, in a very un-Ronan fashion, he could lie.

“When is it?”

“July 2nd.” Stephanie was positively beaming now. “The day before-”

“Adam’s birthday, yeah I remember.” He tried to not sound insulted that he might forget. It was very likely that someone else, someone not still in love with Adam Parrish, might have let go of that detail. “It’s pretty busy at home around then but I’ll see what I can do.”

Apparently, for Stephanie, that was good enough. She grinned and popped another piece of cake between her lips. “I’m really leaning towards the rose and raspberry.” 

 

After a while, when Stephanie had selected and gotten Ronan’s grunt of approval, they approached the counter.

“Hi there,” the woman behind it was middle-aged and smiling sweetly. “Have you and your fiancé come to a decision?” 

Ronan frown, taking a few steps back with his mouth open to protest, but Stephanie just laughed, touching delicate fingers to his shoulder.

“Fiancé’s best friend, actually.”

Fiancé’s ex-boyfriend, actually, Ronan corrected internally. Fiancé’s ex-boyfriend, currently wedding cake shopping with his soon to be wife, currently still burning for the man, currently trying to come to terms that this was how his day was going. With every turn of events though, he wasn’t sure it should surprise him anymore.

 

***

 

His stay in New York was shorter than his previous one, only five days and he was leaving on the morning of the sixth. To celebrate his last night, everyone gathered at Blue and Gansey’s – everyone, minus Stephanie, who was working, much to Ronan’s relief.

It was a quiet, peaceful kind of evening, lounging around and eating, the kind that lulled them into a sleepy contentedness which led to the decision that they would all sleep over. Ronan watched as Gansey helped Blue from the sofa to their bed, and Henry and Noah follow to pass out alongside them. It was a large bed, but with the four bodies sprawled across it, and extra room for Blue and the pillows that surrounded her, it looked tiny.

“Couch it is, then,” Ronan smirked at Adam. It didn’t matter to him, he had slept on the couch for the rest of the week.

He returned to the lounge while Adam disappeared in the direction of the hall, most likely to get himself a blanket from the store closet there. When he came back however, his arms were filled with bedding.

“If we spread this on the floor, it’ll probably be softer than the couch with the carpet. Help me move the coffee table,” Adam instructed.

Ronan did as he was told, happy to work in tandem with Adam. Together they arranged the bedding on the floor, layering it on top of each other to create something vaguely comfier than the lumpy sofa, and then used the blanket Ronan had been sleeping under all week on top.

When they were finished, Ronan was ready to drop into the makeshift bed, but saw Adam grimacing down at himself. For the first time Ronan had seen in a while, Adam wasn’t wearing a button up shirt, but a worn Yale t-shirt and jeans. He hadn’t brought anything with him.

“I’ve got some sweat pants in my bag,” Ronan offered, regretting it immediately. “If you want to borrow them, up to you.”

Adam didn’t answer straight away, he appeared to be weighing up his options, but eventually he nodded. “Yeah, that would be good actually.”

He retrieved them, balled them up and threw them to Adam, who managed to snag them before they hit his face. As he left for the bathroom, he muttered something about Ronan being a delinquent, but the roll of his eyes and quirk to his lip told Ronan that he enjoyed it just as much as he did.

With Adam out of the room, he settled himself beneath the blanket and realised that in a matter of moments Adam would be lying beside him. This was a very bad idea.

Panic flooded through him, suddenly aware how much proximity seemed to dull his common sense. Last time he had reached out, and even now he could still feel the soft touch of Adam’s lip where he had swiped his thumb across it.

He was debating removing himself from the floor and settling on the couch, finding some excuse for why he had done so, when Adam walked out from the bathroom. His sweat pants were slightly too large for Adam, hanging low on his hips in a way that made his pulse race, made something in his stomach flare and curl. He crossed his arms tightly, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Hey,” Adam said. He didn’t move from where he had stopped in the middle of the lounge. It shook him from his thoughts and suddenly Ronan was seventeen again. Sleeping beside Adam, wanting desperately but more so – happy. To be in his presence, to be by his side.

“Hey,” Ronan replied. It was still a bad idea, but he found he no longer cared as Adam sunk to the blankets and found his space amongst them.

Neither spoke. Ronan didn’t uncross his arms, keeping his eyes on the lights dangling from the ceiling. From the corner of his eye, it looked as though Adam was doing the same thing, his hands folded. There was space enough for another person between them. They did not touch.

Minutes ticked by, both of them perfectly still until Adam huffed, and Ronan felt him shift. He risked a glance, turning his head against a cushion from the couch, and saw Adam staring at him, now lying on his side. Ronan watched the way his chest moved as he breathed.

“Tell me something,” Ronan said, finally.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

He watched Adam think for a moment, his eyes searching the room for inspiration. “At work, I think we’re really close to getting funding for a drug trial, one that I think – well I’m hoping at least – is gonna have really good results.”

“What’s it for?”

“Type of hormone therapy, can slow or stop some cancerous growths, we’re hoping it has less side effects than most right now.”

“Of course, Adam Parrish is out here finding a cure to cancer.”

Adam’s lips twitched. “Not exactly.”

They continued like that, exchanging truths and opinions, statements and confessions, as the sky outside grew lighter. Their words were nothing more than whispers, murmurs in the quiet of the early hours, sleep gnawing at the edges of Ronan’s mind.

It was Adam’s turn. “This is the most like myself I’ve felt in a long time.”

He had stretched out his hand, reaching upwards to watch it as he flexed his fingers, speaking almost absentmindedly.

Ronan didn’t say it, but he shared the sentiment. It was being around his friends again, feeling content despite his heart ache, it felt like pieces of himself he thought he had lost for good were coming back to him and slotting into place. The final piece was lying next to him, and that meant he would probably remain incomplete.

This had been a mistake though, he realised as his eyes began to grow even heavier. He watched Adam, his eyelashes fluttering open and shut as he fought off sleep. This was the only way he was supposed to sleep, he decided. Stretched out next to Adam, the rest of the world seeming so far away. His error had been realising this, because after tonight it wasn’t likely he would ever get to fall asleep beside Adam Parrish. Without him, he was never sleeping again.

“Lynch.”

Adam had been watching Ronan watch him. When Adam moved, he sat up slightly, resting his head on his arm to gaze down at him. His eyes raked over Ronan’s face, settling on his lips for a heartbeat, before meeting his gaze.

Adam leant down and kissed him.

Ronan would have been lying if he said he hadn’t imagined what kissing this Adam would be like. What with circumstance and the swirling tension Ronan felt in his chest whenever Adam was around, he thought he knew. It would be a crash, desperate and necessary. Something reckless that would be met with the instant pang of regret on both parties. The guilty rush of ignoring speed limits and road signs, because his mind told him: _go, go, go._

It was none of those things.

It was Adam ducking his head an inch to press their lips together. It was Ronan’s hand finding Adam’s cheek in the caress he had started in the chalet barn. It was a chase, of mouths brushing against each other in a way that just yearned for the closeness. It was the soft sigh Adam breathed against his lips, and the way he rested his forehead against Ronan’s when they parted.

They stayed like that for a moment, eyes shut, until Adam pulled away. He settled down beside Ronan, curled on his side and careful not to touch. Ronan didn’t have the will to process it, just let sleep drag him away, with the sight of Adam sleeping etched into his mind.

 

***

 

When Ronan woke, Adam was gone.

Not only was the space beside him empty, though clearly slept in with the shallow indent he had left, but he wasn’t anywhere else in the apartment. Ronan checked without wanting to look like he was looking, wandering to the bathroom to brush his teeth, checking to see if his friends were still asleep in the bedroom, making himself a strong, black coffee in the kitchen. Adam Parrish was nowhere to be seen.  

Part of him wasn’t sure why he expected anything different, but he still angry at himself. He had known there would come a time when all of this amounted to something, all of his pent up emotion, all of the wanting. He had thought that it would be him, letting his impulsive nature get the better of him, to break and tell Adam that if he wanted the choice, he would always be an option, no matter how desperate it made him sound.

Instead Adam had bridged that gap. He had kissed him. And then he had walked away, as if it was nothing. To him, it probably was, thinking about it now. But to Ronan it was the final nail in the coffin he had been residing in for years. He could still feel the trace of Adam’s lips against his.

It didn’t register that he was throwing his coffee mug until shattered against the kitchen tiles, shards of it cracking and the dark liquid seeping across the floor. He cursed, dropping to his knees to collect the pieces.

“Ronan?”

Gansey had appeared, wearing pyjama bottoms that were too long and pooled around his feet. He was rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What happened?”

“Dropped it,” was all Ronan said.

His friend stepped around the mess, grabbed a dish rag and then sunk to the floor besides Ronan to start sopping up the coffee. “Where’s Adam?”

“Fuck if I know,” Ronan bit.

If Gansey was surprised by Ronan’s tone, he didn’t show it. He had a quiet air about him, one that felt like he already knew what had gone down, it was bordering on patronising, Ronan thought. “What happened?” He repeated.

“Nothing.”

“Did you two fight?”

“No,” Ronan snapped, swinging the word like a punch. He wanted a knockout, an end to the conversation. And it wasn’t a lie, they hadn’t fought. It was nothing, because Adam was treating it as such and if that was the case? Well, he was going to follow his lead.

“Why did he leave?” It was just a question, Gansey wasn’t pushing or pressuring him into answering it, but Ronan was running out of patience.

“Just leave it, Dick. He’s gone, okay? He’s fucked off. He’s gone home, to Steph or whatever.” He finished his outburst, and then, quieter, “I don’t care.”

Gansey’s hand on the dishrag stilled. Ronan stood, shards of broken mug in his hand, and crossed to deposit them in the trash can.

“Oh,” he heard him say. Ronan wasn’t facing Gansey, but he heard the way he said it. Though it had taken him enough time, Ronan recognised that he was having a revelation. One Ronan didn’t want to hear. “Ronan, I didn’t know.”

There, his name meant, _I’m so sorry_ , and Ronan hated it, never wanted the sound of his name to be so closely associated to pity again. He had run his mouth, and of course Gansey was able to figure him out with only that, piecing it together almost immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ronan lied. That was becoming a terrible habit for him.

“I didn’t know,” Gansey said again, standing, dishrag in hand. “I didn’t know you still felt that way about him. If I had, I would have never forced you to – or have gotten angry then about – or. I’m sorry, Ronan.” 

“Shut up, Jesus, just shut up,” the more Gansey said out loud, the harder it was to turn back. “We’re not talking about this– there isn’t a ‘this’, okay? It’s nothing. We’re done here.”

He abandoned Gansey and the kitchen, and then the apartment, a cigarette between his lips before he hit the stairs.

 

***

 

He received the second and third important phone calls of the season within the space of a few hours, a month after returning from New York.

In that time he and Adam hadn’t spoken once. Adam didn’t initiate the conversation, and Ronan decided that he would absolutely not be the one to do so. Other than that, not much had changed. He spoke to Gansey as often as he used to, Gansey didn’t bring up Ronan’s feelings. In fact, he barely brought up Adam at all. And he certainly didn’t bring up Stephanie or the wedding – thank God for small mercies, he thought.

But that made it all the more strange when one morning his phone chimed. He had just gotten his cast removed and was now sat at the kitchen table, supposedly working on the farm’s accounts, but actually spending a large amount of time flexing his wrist, now that he could again.  

_Stephanie Burton has sent you a friend request._

He frowned, casting aside his papers. After unlocking his phone and checking that it was the only Stephanie he knew, he tapped accept, finger hovering hesitantly for a moment before.

It hadn’t been a minute after accepting that his phone starting buzzing again.

_STEPHANIE BURTON CALLING…_

The kitchen seemed to get smaller as he stared down at his phone, her name in big letters, the three dots following it disappearing and returning as he tried to make up his mind about answering. Just as he thought it was about to cut out, he grabbed it. He pushed up from his chair as he put it to his ear.

“Hello? Ronan?” Stephanie’s voice sounded distant, but there was something else there.

“Yeah.”

“Hi, I’m sorry I wasn’t sure who else to call – Gansey said you probably wouldn’t know anything but I just wanted to check because,” she laughed, but he could hear she was nervous, “I’m really running out of options.”

“What is it?” He asked, doing her no favours with his harsh tone.

“I was wondering if you’ve heard from Adam?”

“No,” Ronan answered immediately. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing – he just – we just – we had an argument, he was stressed about something from work and it got a little out of proportion and he left – I thought for a walk or something. But I haven’t heard from him since. None of us have.”

Ronan felt his hand tighten to a fist, a swoop of nausea in his stomach.

“I haven’t. Sorry I can’t help you.” Could she hear the way he spoke through a clenched jaw?

“Right, no, I don’t know why I expected anything different,” he heard her sniff on the other line. “Thank you anyway though, Ronan. Please let me know if you hear anything.”

“And when you find him-”

“Of course, I’ll let you know.” He appreciated that she didn’t make him ask.

After they hung up, Ronan paced up and down his kitchen, once, twice, three times. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. He sat down. He stood up. He knocked his chair over.

First Blue and now Adam? Of course, it wasn’t confirmed that anything terrible had happened to the man, but it didn’t stop his mind from heading squarely in that direction. It wasn’t like him. What had happened? Had Stephanie left something out of her story?

He grabbed his phone again and found Adam’s contact. It rang for what felt like an age, and when it went to voicemail Ronan cut it off. Instead, he typed out a message.

_where are you_

_everyones freaking out, get them off my back_

_call your damn fiancée jfc_

It was all he could do for now, so he sat back at the table and tried, and failed, to get back to work.

 

***

 

Three hours later, he was lying on his couch, bouncing a tennis ball off of one of his living room walls. Rogue would grab as it ricocheted and return to him and he would throw it again, his eyes never leaving the blank wall he was watching.

When his phone rang he nearly fell off the sofa, first as it made him jump, its chime echoing in his otherwise silent house, and then in a scrambled to answer it.

_ADAM PARRISH CALLING…_

The bastard.

He answered it, and didn’t get a chance to say anything before Adam was saying his name.

“Lynch?” Adam sounded almost breathless. His name had also been the last word he said to him, that night on Gansey’s floor. Ronan lay back on the couch, closing his eyes to the sound of Adam’s voice, in one piece, seemingly unharmed.

“You’re an idiot, everyone’s shitting themselves over you going walkabouts,” he hoped Adam could tell from his tone that he was angry. If he could, he didn’t care.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Fuck all,” Ronan said.

“I need a favour,” Adam started, pausing to see if Ronan would refuse him. As if he could. “I’m at Dublin airport.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m at Dublin airport, will you come get me?” Ronan opened his mouth, but no noise made its way out. “Lynch, are you there?”

“You’re mad. You’re actually mad.” He was in Ireland. Why was he in Ireland? Ronan absolutely refused to get his hopes up after the last time.

“Does that mean you’re leaving me here?” And God dammit, he could hear Adam smirking on the other line. He had half a mind to say yes.

But he was already grabbing his car keys, aware that Rogue was trotting along beside him to the car. That was okay – she enjoyed a drive.

“I’ll be an hour,” he told him and then hung up.

 

***

 

Throughout the drive to the airport, Ronan did his best to put his purpose for going there out of his mind. If he thought of Adam the entire drive he was sure he would lose the faintest flare of anger in his chest he held towards the man. Anger at him for disappearing and scaring everyone, in a way that was so uncharacteristic of him. Anger at him for the how he had left things, vanishing from his side before he even woke. Anger at him for kissing him in the first place. Anger at himself for replaying the brush of lips in his head. 

He needed this anger, he decided, to keep him rooted in reality, to stop him from doing anything stupid, and also to remind him that Adam, clearly, wasn’t okay. This wasn’t like him.

So he blared his music and rolled down the window so Rogue could stick her head out and bark at oncoming traffic. He sat back in his seat and gripped the steering wheel with one hand.

When he arrived he pulled up into the short stay bay and shot Adam a text to say he was there. Not five minutes later, Adam Parrish was sliding into his passenger seat. It was a good thing that he had brought Rogue with him, because as she pushed through the gap in the front seats to lick at Adam’s face, it gave him the opportunity to really glance at the man.

Adam was dishevelled, devishly so. The long haul flight had taken its toll, rucking up his hair and crinkling the collar of his shirt, and all it reminded Ronan of was how much he wanted to run his hands across the man. Him being here was different, having entered Ronan’s territory of his own free will made Ronan restless in a way that had been off limits in New York, and sure enough, that anger still simmered beneath his skin. He started the car engine without saying anything.

“Hey,” Adam finally broke the silence. They were heading onto the motorway.

Ronan didn’t return the greeting. “You speak to Stephanie?”

He heard Adam sigh. “Yeah, as soon as I landed. Told her I needed a break from New York and well – you said I could come to Ireland whenever.”

That wasn’t disputable, because Ronan had said that. He had meant whatever season or time suited Adam best, he didn’t mean that Adam should up and visit with no word of warning. He didn’t reply, but turned the radio on to a talk show.

They drove in silence for what must have been half the journey before Ronan risked a glance at his passenger. Rogue had placed herself on the floor of the backseats, happy to rest her nose between the front two and be scratched by Adam, his fingers lazily working the fur between her ears. Ronan couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you here, Parrish?”

The time it took for Adam to answer told Ronan he was searching for a way to word a truth, but he wasn’t expecting the one he got. “You were the first place I thought of running to.”

He said it casually, but Ronan had committed the nonchalant shrug of his shoulders to memory, and knew he used it to disguise any information he thought made him vulnerable. “What are you running from?”

“Life?”

“Adam,” Ronan pleaded.

The man across from his shifted in his seat, facing forwards to watch the road. “Y’know that night, I told you about that research I’ve been working on?” Ronan nodded. “Funding for it fell through, we have to start from scratch essentially and I – I was so angry. Thought I was finally doing something that might help people, rather than hurt.”

“Who are you hurting?”

He could feel Adam’s eyes on him, almost shivered knowing how sharp and cold they would look right now. “I’m not an idiot, Ronan. I know who I’m hurting. So do you.”

Ronan thought to the coffee mug he had broken, scrambling to collect the shards from the kitchen floor. He guessed he had a pretty good idea. “So you’re escaping, great. Now what?”

“Whatever you want,” Adam must have heard Ronan’s sour laugh at that. “I’m serious, what would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”

After thinking for a moment, he replied honestly. “It’s after lunch, I’d probably be walking Rogue.”

“So let’s take her for a walk,” Adam suggested. And they did.

 

***

 

Ireland’s beaches were a treasure, Ronan thought this every time he strolled along Templetown Beach, so close to his home that he thought it was a crime that he wasn’t here often. The view was made substantially better, however, by the sight of Adam Parrish chasing after his dog.

Adam had ditched his shoes, stuffed his socks inside them and rolled up the bottom of his trousers to follow Rogue into the surf despite how cold the water was. Ronan stayed firmly on the sand, watching as Rogue shook her coat and splattered Adam with salt water droplets, and tried to stop himself from wishing too desperately that this was his life.

Despite everything, his running and the constant internal berating he was certain Adam was subjecting himself to, he was smiling as he darted in and out of the sea foam. At one point, he stopped moving, tilted his head up and Ronan saw him inhale, a large breath of the fresh, salty air. He could see his toes wiggling in the sand.

Ronan had never wanted so much as when it was put directly in front of him – just out of reach.

As they drove home, things had become less awkward, less tense. Adam was quiet and Ronan was brooding, but that wasn’t necessarily unlike them and it subsided for a brief moment when they arrived and Ronan showed him around his home. It was hard to cling to hurt and anger when Adam looked so completely intrigued by the sight of where he lived.

He made them both dinner, an out of season butternut squash recipe his mother had shown him, and they ate it in front of the television, watching some action film Ronan had never seen before. By the time they were both finished, night had crept upon them. He pushed his plate aside and stretched out along the floor, allowing Rogue to come curl up at his side. On the couch, Adam mirrored him.

“I wish things were different,” Adam said.

“But they aren’t,” Ronan thought it was important to remind him of this.

Adam reached down off the sofa, and linked his fingers through Ronan’s. He held his hand loosely, allowing Ronan to pull away if he wanted but he made no such move to. The day Ronan passed up an opportunity to hold Adam Parrish’s hand would be the day where wars waged and hell fire rained down. He swallowed down his confliction. “Tell me something.”

Adam, as quick as ever, barely missed a beat before replying. “I think you bring out the best and the worst in me. I haven’t stopped making bad decisions since you walked back into my life,” he gestured to the room, signalling the bad decision he was in the middle of executing, “but I meant what I said last time. This is the most like myself I’ve felt in a long time, when I’m not being terrible. The good bits. _You_ , you bring them out.”

At some point Ronan had shifted, leaning on his forearms, Adam was leaning towards him _. That’s how you’re always supposed to feel,_ he wanted to say. _That’s how I always want you to feel. That’s how I could make you feel, if you wanted._ Instead, Adam ruined it.

“We should just runaway.”   

Ronan felt his skin turn ferociously warm as he blinked at Adam. Then he pushed off of the floor, disdain curling in his lip.

“Do not,” he tore upwards, dragging himself to his feet, stumbling. “Don’t say that shit, Jesus, fuck.”

“Why not?” Adam had moved too, his feet planted on the floor.

“Why not?” He echoed, laughing but obviously not amused. “Because I would! And you know I would, everyone fucking knows that I would! And you – you’ll leave in a few days, and we both know that you’ll go back to Stephanie, who doesn’t deserve this, by the way – and trust me I’ve tried to hate her. Don’t dangle that shit in front of me when we both know how this goes, Adam."

“Ronan,” Adam stood and there was a fight in his eyes, crystal clear, it read, _what if?_ And, well, what could Ronan say to that?

If the kiss that followed was ever to arise in conversation, Ronan would reluctantly admit that he was the one to move first.

His mind barely managed to catch up to his body as it ate the space between the pair in two long strides. His hand, as it had twice before now, went to Adam’s cheek, only to be met by Adam’s own. Adam guided his hand, not managing to suppress a shiver as Ronan’s fingers trailed up his neck and into his hair, then curled his fingers around Ronan’s so that he was clutching at his short locks. And then Ronan kissed him.

Briefly, as his mind was soon otherwise occupied, he thought back to the delicate kiss they shared on the floor of Gansey’s apartment, and how it had been the opposite of everything he expected. This kiss, however, was born from fire, was _go, go, go_ and Ronan found himself thinking, _ah – here it is._

It was hot, open mouths on each other, fierce and needy. Ronan’s hand joined the first in Adam’s hair, pulling the man closer to him. He felt Adam’s hands wandering over his t-shirt clad chest. At the same time they went to its hem and pushed under to touch Ronan’s bare skin, Adam licked up into his mouth, and Ronan felt his knees knock.

They rocked through the house like a storm, stumbling from wall to wall as they made their way towards the stairs. Ronan lost his shirt before then, and he knew Adam’s fingers were longing to trace his tattoo on his back. He was too gone, putty in Adam’s hands, pushing back when he pressed against him, hard and eager.

Somehow they made it to Ronan’s bedroom, but he wouldn’t be able to recount how the next day. Adam pushed him back, so he fell onto the bed with a thud, and then crawled up after him, inserting himself into Ronan’s space. Their mouths met again and Ronan couldn’t help but arch under him as he heard, felt, Adam groan. He masked it, by licking a strip from Adam’s collar to just below his ear lobe, watching as his eyes squeeze shut.

Ronan’s mind was a struggling through a heady haze when he felt Adam reach for his belt buckle. He lolled his head back and sucked in a breath, but his desire fizzled out when he glanced at Adam.

His brows were furrowed as he worked at Ronan’s belt. It should have been an easy task, but when Ronan looked at Adam’s hands he saw they were trembling. Guilt shot through him in the same way adrenaline had previously.

“Stop,” he said, trying to sit up. Adam didn’t move, but his concerned eyes met Ronan’s. Ronan grabbed at the hands still on his belt, tearing them away by holding each wrist. “Stop, Parrish, Jesus.”

Adam’s gaze turned hard. “Don’t you want to?”

“Yes,” Ronan said and then corrected himself, sliding out from underneath him. “No. Not when you don’t.”

“I do, I just-” He didn’t let Adam finish his protest.

“No, you don’t. And I’m not going to give you any more reason to be angry at yourself. Not having that on my conscience.” _I never want you to do anything you don’t want to_ , Ronan thought.

From the glare Adam was shooting at him, that had been the wrong thing to say, but he didn’t let go of his wrists. He wanted to stare Adam down, let him know he was serious. He wasn’t expecting Adam to look away first, bowing his head. His hair flicked into his eyes.

“Fuck,” his voice was raw.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he was. About the kiss, about the situation, about the fact that if he hadn’t ran six years ago this might have been okay. They might have been the people to walk their dog, come home and cook dinner together, have sex and have committing each other’s bodies to memory as the only thing on their mind. He might have been the one to marry Adam Parrish.

“Don’t,” Adam warned, freeing himself from Ronan’s grip. “No matter what I do, this can only end in disaster. Someone gets hurt.”

It had been unspoken, still was really. That didn’t stop either of them from knowing what exactly Adam was talking about here. They were drawn to each other, always would be. Without dedication to staying out of each other’s way, this was where they would always end up. The question was if Adam loved Stephanie more than he was tied to Ronan.

“In France,” he began as Adam separated himself to sit on the edge of the bed, “I told you to decide. Decide if you hated me, if you were angry at me, if you were gonna forgive me. Now I’m asking you to choose again. Make your choice, and I’ll – whatever it is – I’ll stick with it. I’ll disappear if that’s what you need. But you gotta choose, Parrish.”

That was the longest he had spoken in what felt like forever. He wasn’t expecting Adam to choose there and then, but he would be lying if he didn’t feel a surge of disappointment as Adam stood and left the room. If Adam wanted company, he would have stayed, so Ronan let him walk.

Instead he listened as Adam opened the door to his spare room and shut it, staring at his ceiling until the night became morning. He heard Adam moving around the house, and the tell-tale patter of Rogue’s paws following him about. “Rogue, not now, girl.”

Ronan was getting up when he heard a car pull into the driveway, so he crossed to his window. A taxi had pulled up outside the house, and he watched as Adam slipped outside to meet it. Before getting in, Adam cast one last glance at the house and met Ronan’s eyes through the window. He gave a firm nod and left, a gust of wind that had blown through Ronan’s home and out again. Adam had chosen. 

“Enough now,” Ronan told himself. “Enough.”

 

***

 

The fourth and final notable phone call Ronan received in spring came from Gansey.

It had been a week since Adam and Ronan was absolutely not moping. He was an adult now, and passed that. He was going about his day, taking photos, shovelling shit with the rest of the workers. If he spoke even less than usual, and if when he graced them with something to say it seemed all that more monotone, his employees didn’t breathe a word about it. If he came home each night and drank lukewarm beer while staring at his turned off television, no one had to know that.

That was where he was when Gansey called.

“Dick,” he answered. Was he slurring? He hoped not. Gansey would be able to tell.

“Hey,” Gansey’s voice was apprehensive and it caught Ronan’s attention. “I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to Adam lately?”

Ronan laughed aloud, a sound he had meant to swallow and he blamed the beer for the slip. “I have not.”

“Ronan,” he paused. “The engagement’s off.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! That was a lot right? Only one chapter left, but don't worry there's a LOT left to happen. That also leads me to my first question, epilogue? Is that a thing that people might want? I guess I'll ask after the last chapter and that way you can see after it all pans out. 
> 
> Second question is more of a request really! I don't use tumblr or much like that, but I want to carry on writing TRC content, probably a couple of one shots and start another longer AU. Right now I'm thinking about doing The 100 AU (without assigning specific characters and not as much grounder stuff just. Troubled space teens sent to die) but not set so, if there's anything you'd like to see feel free to let me know. 
> 
> Anyway thank you so much for reading! If you wanted to comment or anything, it really makes my day. Love all of you! - Kat x


	4. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gansey took off his glasses, dinner abandoned. “So what happened?” 
> 
> It was clear he was thinking the obvious. What had happened that meant the wedding was called off when Adam returned to the states? 
> 
> “We kissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay I have a lot to say so I'm going to try and be as concise and quick as possible  
> a) thank you to absolutely everyone who has been so supportive of this fic, I haven't written fanfic in a long time and the response to NFMG was really so incredible I love all of you sm  
> b) I am very very nervous about this chapter - endings are hard and I'm so attached to this story, I'm hoping everyone is as happy with it as I am  
> c) there is some smut near the end of the chapter! just thought I'd say, it's not much and can be skipped  
> d) Stephanie's part in this chapter is inspired by a real conversation I had with someone in a similar situation, concerned it may be seen as unrealistic but alas  
> e) lol phone calls in this are international and very unrealistic and have no continuity but we'll ignore that!
> 
> and with that, I'll let you get on! Enjoy and read end notes for some good news - Kat

Ronan knew the moment he pulled out his phone that this would be a mistake. He knew it because it was already late and he had been driving up and down the same stretches of costal road for hours. Prior experience told him neither of those things lead to good decision making.

Technically, he considered, it was actually early. With the arrival of June, morning seemed to appear out of nowhere. One moment Ronan would be staring at the ceiling above his bed, and then he would watch as the shadows in his room would be replaced with the light of another day.

This particular night he had been unable to pretend sleep was going to arrive sooner or later, so he drove. He finally stopped somewhere around 4AM, skidding the BMW to a halt in an empty parking site for the beach below. He leaned against the car, cigarette in one hand, phone in the other, and watched as licks of red sky began to paint a sunrise.

“Fuck it,” he said, to the empty lot, and put the cigarette to his lips.

After a long drag, he opened Adam’s contact, reading his last message – one that had gone unanswered for nearly a month.

_are you okay?_

Smoke still swirling in his lungs, he pressed call and exhaled as it rang out. There was Adam’s voicemail, automated so he was deprived of his voice, and then a beep.

“Parrish.”

That was as far as he had thought through. He went to put the cigarette to his mouth, then changed his mind and stubbed it out.

“I was just driving and I – fuck, I don’t know. I haven’t been drinking or anything, so don’t freak. It’s just late.”

Why had he called? There were things he wanted to say, Ronan was sure there had been a point. He wanted to ask what had happened with Stephanie. He wanted to ask why he hadn’t replied. He wanted to tell him he was pissed off.

“Just wanted to know you’re still kicking. Dick says you haven’t been around much lately, and he’s being a baby about it so do me a favour and take him for dinner or something. Get him to stop bothering me.”

As he spoke, he sank down against the side of his car, his knees bent. One hand touched the gravel of the parking lot, rough against his skin. He huffed out a breath.

“I know you don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything. I just – God dammit,” he broke off with a sour laugh. “I have no idea what I called to say. Just ask what happened. If you made your choice. But the fact you’ve dropped off the face of the earth probably answers that one, right? I told you I’d go with whatever you chose. So, just take care, Parrish, okay?”

 

***

 

The last time Ronan had been at Dublin airport he hadn’t needed to leave his car, but he was trying his best to keep his last visitor well out of mind as he waited by arrivals. Rogue sat patiently by his feet, her leash wrapped around his hand despite knowing she would never try to leave his side. He glanced around at the taxi drivers and families also waiting. Maybe he should have brought a sign. _WELCOME DICK_ , he would have written.

Last month, a week or so after Adam had left Ireland without so much as a trace, Ronan had gotten a call from Blue. That day was her last appointment with her doctor and she was all cleared after lacking mobility for the two months following her accident. She still needed physio, but her collar bones had healed nicely, much to everyone’s relief. The phone call was to tell him that her and Gansey wanted to visit Ireland.

“Ronan,” she said, gathering his attention with her tone. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Do what?”

“Ask him to marry me.”

Suddenly he was back in that hospital room with Blue. “I thought you were just high.”

Blue laughed, a brilliant, musical thing. When was the last time Ronan had heard someone laugh? Everything in the past week had been so serious, but this was actually good news. Despite all he was feeling, about another wedding having just been written off and a man who wouldn’t reply to him, he found himself already happy for the pair.

“I need your help with a few things for it though, is that okay?”

“Yeah, whatever you need, maggot.”

Now, a month later, he watched as Gansey and Blue rounded the corner with other exhausted passengers from the long-haul flight. Gansey had on his glasses instead of contacts and an old Yale sweatshirt that was fraying at the sleeves and Ronan thought that he looked his age again – twenty-four and travelling. Besides him Blue looked a little more disgruntled, wearing billowing harem trousers and a hoodie that definitely wasn’t hers – it could have been any one of the boys’, though Ronan was pretty sure it wasn’t one of his that she had ‘borrowed.’ Each carried a large backpack, no doubt a remnant from their travels a few years prior.

“Ronan Lynch,” Gansey greeted, and it meant _I’m excited to be here._ There was a familiar glint in his eye, a hum beneath his skin that meant his friend was buzzing to start exploring.

He received a hug from Gansey, and returned it with a thump to his back for good measure. Blue was frowning, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie.

“Looks like someone missed nap time,” Ronan smirked.

“Someone didn’t sleep a wink on the eight hour flight _or_ the night before. Someone is very tired,” Blue deadpanned, but her expression softened when Ronan patted her head.

He wondered if Blue’s inability to sleep was from the journey or the looming question she was going to ask. He gave her a grin, accompanying it with a flick of his eyebrows. She seemed to know what he was thinking about and scrunched up her mouth in an attempt to stop herself from returning it. Gansey was, of course, oblivious.

“You can catch up on some when we get back,” Ronan offered, passing Rogue’s leash over to Blue, who eagerly accepted it and greeted the dog.

“Not for too long though,” Gansey interjected as they began walking to where Ronan had parked. He pulled out his journal from his jean pocket. “I’ve made a list of the historical sites we should try and see while we’re here – the Dublinia has a viking and medieval exhibit which I think would be really great. And then there’s the Hill of Tara – seat of the ancient high kings of Ireland. Not to mention Newgrange too, that dates to around 3200BCE, that’s before the pyramids which is astounding really – though there’s controversy really about the restoration from the sixties-”

Gansey continued but Ronan had stopped listening long before they were pulling away from the airport.

 

***

 

After Ronan had shown them around his cottage, he had to return to the farm for a while, and by the time he got back the sun was just setting. He found his friends in his kitchen, groceries crowding the counters.

“Lynch!” Gansey beamed. “We thought we would cook dinner, a thank you for letting us stay.”

“He’s cooking dinner,” Blue pointed out. “I’m drinking wine.”

Though he would never say it, Ronan felt a certain flare of warmth in his chest at his two friends in his home. He felt a surge of relief that he had managed to mend their relationship back to this, after not having seen them for so long a year ago.

He shrugged, kicking off his boots and sinking into a chair at his table. “It’s not so bad having you here.”

“Did that hurt?” Blue teased. “I’m glad we get to be the first ones to see your place.”

“You’re not,” he replied before realising his mistake. Why, recently, had he only been engaging in honesty when it got him in trouble?

“What?” Gansey frowned.

At the same time, Blue said, “excuse me?”

He sighed, looking between the pair. Blue was leaning forward across the table, eyebrows arching upwards, but Gansey’s were pinched as if he was already expecting the answer. Ronan groaned and let his forehead rest on the table.

“Adam visited,” he said, without looking up.

“When?” Blue exclaimed.

At the same time, Gansey asked, “why?”

Ronan lifted his head to glare at the pair, before resting it against his hand, elbow propped on the table. He cast his eyes down, tracing his finger along the lines of the oak. “Last month. And because he’s dramatic as shit.”

“Ronan,” Gansey’s voice was stern. “Explain, please.”

There was no arguing with him there. “Last month when he disappeared, he’d gotten on a plane and turned up here. I thought Stephanie would’ve told you.”

He shook his head. “She just said she had gotten a hold of him. We figured they would have some things to go over and it would be best to give them some space.” Gansey took off his glasses, dinner abandoned. “So what happened?”

It was clear he was thinking the obvious. What had happened that meant the wedding was called off when he returned to the states?

“We kissed.”

Silence filled the kitchen. Ronan’s eyes darted to his ceiling, counting the cobwebs he hadn’t brushed away by his cupboards instead of looking at his friends, but when he did their expressions were complicated. It was too close to the look Gansey had given him in the kitchen of his apartment, after Ronan threw the coffee mug.

“I kissed him,” he said, for honesty’s sake. “It was going further and then it stopped and I told him-”

He paused. One look at Blue and Gansey and he knew he didn’t need explain what had been going on. He had a feeling that even if she didn’t know the extent, Blue knew Ronan’s feelings and she knew Adam even better than him. And when Gansey clicked, he would have spent time analysing their interactions for the months prior. He didn’t need to hide from his friends.

“I told him enough was enough, and that if we couldn’t keep doing this shit. Told him to make a choice.”

“So he chose you?” Blue asked. “The wedding’s off, so he must have chosen you?”

“Doubt it,” Ronan was aware he was convincing no one in the room of his apathy. “We haven’t spoken since. He left without saying a thing.”

“Also,” Gansey spoke slowly, measuring his words. “It was Stephanie. She was the one to call it off.”

Well, he had kept that quiet.

“He told you that?” Quiet from Blue too. It concerned Ronan that, apparently, it wasn’t just him he was avoiding.

“I told him to tell me what was going on and he said she had called it off and he needed space.”

“He told her, then,” Blue supplied.

“We can only assume.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ronan said. Their faces told him they weren’t buying it. “It doesn’t. It shouldn’t have happened – none of it. Adam’s life was fine until I showed up again. It’s better off this way. Done messing stuff up for other people.”

If Adam was here, he would have probably told him it was too little too late for that. Blue and Gansey looked more conflicted.

“It’s done now. Can we leave it?”

The couple in front of him agreed and the matter was dropped. Gansey returned to cooking dinner and running over their itinerary for the trip, even if he glanced at Ronan with more concerned eyes as he did so. Ronan was surprised when Blue shuffled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. He accepted her comfort despite feeling truly undeserving, and tried not to think of Stephanie Burton. He knew about being heartbroken over Adam Parrish.

 

***

 

Two days after the couple had arrived, after Ronan had chauffeured Gansey to various historical sites and trailed after him in museum exhibits he never would have visited of his own free will, Blue and Gansey spent a day on their own. Ronan had finished his work and headed home, put on the TV and ignored what was on it. He wondered if Blue had popped the question yet.

The help she had asked for over the phone was for Ronan to send her any pictures he had taken of them over the past few years, as they would be some nice, high quality ones to slot in amongst the selfies from their years together – she was making him a scrapbook with a ring on the last page. It was creative like Blue, and Gansey, the sap, would love it. He reminded himself he was happy for them, and not to reach for his whiskey before they were home.

It wasn’t long he would have to wait, it turned out. He heard them arrive before the door opened, laughing giddily with each other and then a pause. A kiss, probably, before they entered.

When they did, they were windswept, Blue’s hair even more manic than usual, Gansey’s shirt ruffled and broad smiles were plastered over their faces. Ronan hated to admit it was infectious, a smirk appearing without his permission.

“Finally got the balls to ask, then, Sargent?”

Gansey looked between the two, his smile, against all odds, widening.

“Lynch, you absolute devil, you knew!” He threw an arm around Ronan, refusing to let go of Blue’s hand with the other. It didn’t matter, because soon Blue joined too, not tall enough to hug him like Gansey, but she wrapped an arm around his middle nonetheless.

When they released him, Gansey pressed a lingering kiss to Blue’s forehead. She rolled her eyes, but there was a twinkle to them that told him she really didn’t mind. Gansey sighed, as if the excitement had worn him out. “Well then – we best celebrate then, I suppose?”

And they did. None of them were particularly partial to champagne, but Gansey did insist on disappearing to get some. While he was out Blue told Ronan they had gone to a beach, basking in the sun – a rare thing in Ireland, even in June. When he returned, they toasted together.

“To Jane, who will never cease to surprise me, apparently.” Gansey raised his glass in the air. “And to Ronan, who I’m hoping will do me the honour of being my best man?”

“Only because you won’t shut up if I say no.”

Eventually Ronan excused himself, claiming he needed to get up early the next day. In reality, while he knew Blue and Gansey loved having him involved, he wanted to give them some time on their own.

He went to his room and tossed and turned until he couldn’t ignore the way his throat seemed to scratch which each breath he took. He got up and padded out his room towards the kitchen, about to announce himself and that he just needed a glass of water, when he saw them on his sofa.

They were sitting impossibly close, Blue’s legs draped across his lap, their faces almost touching. Adoration was clear as day in Gansey’s eyes, his fingers trailing up and down her bare calf.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice low and vulnerable. “Is this really what you want? Because I want to, but if you didn’t - ”

Blue touched a hand to his cheek. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.”

“What changed?”

She didn’t answer straight away. “I told someone once that when _you_ care about someone, that’s it. You can’t do anything half-heartedly, when you care about something or someone, you care with all of you.

“And marriage means different things to different people. I thought it was for other people, to prove something about your relationship, or to stamp ownership over someone. But really, it’s a private thing, I think. It’s a different promise each time. This is my promise, to care with all of me, about you. And I was doing that anyway – so we can get it on a piece of paper, because I know that would make you happy.”

Suddenly, Ronan was too aware of his eavesdropping, especially as he already recognised part of that conversation. He slipped to the kitchen, careful to be quiet and then back to his room.

***

The only thing New York was good for, Ronan decided, was his photography. There was always enough interesting people, intriguing places, and he made it a habit to walk to wherever he was going with his camera around his neck.

On this night, Ronan walked around the city at a tourist’s pace, no doubt annoying commuters trying to get home with his large frame taking up space on the sidewalk. That was okay, he thought. He had absolutely no desire to rush to his destination.

A month had passed since the proposal and for the most part Ronan had yet to be particularly involved, something he counted his blessings for. He wanted no part in trying to organise a wedding that already had Blue Sargent, Henry Cheng and Helen Gansey as contributors. Gansey, for the most part, was playing the role of mediator between his fiancée and sister.

Having managed to avoid any of the discussion for the better part of a month, Ronan eventually had to visit. He needed to get measured for a suit of Gansey’s choosing and partake for ‘moral support’.

He thought it was bullshit. He thought it was all too convenient that his visit had fallen on this week of July. He thought it was a terrible idea that he had been told to tag along to the bar they were celebrating Adam’s birthday at. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered that yesterday was the date that had been set for Stephanie and Adam’s wedding – not that it mattered anymore.

Abruptly he stopped, pausing to take a picture of a dog tied up outside a bodega. Several people cursed as he disturbed the flow of sidewalk traffic, making them dodge around him. A part of him, one that reminded him a lot more of his younger self, yearned for one of them to call him out and start a fight. That would be a valid excuse to bail on drinks. But as luck would have it, the people of New York were being unexpectedly civil.

Ronan had tried his best to get out of this meeting, but to his surprise it was Henry that had convinced him.

“I know it’ll be awkward,” Henry had said, approaching him to lay a hand on his back. He had just said no to Gansey, ignoring the deflation in his friend’s shoulders, and was going for a smoke when he was stopped by the man. “Because of the, y’know, the pining and the bad decisions-”

“Fuck you Cheng,” Ronan sighed. “How is it everyone knows my damn business?”

“You and Parrish put your business on display every time you look at each other and we lucky folk seem to always have front row seats. But it’s actually not about you this time, funnily enough. Adam’s in the wedding too. You want the first time to face him to be there? Talk to him now so you can both behave for Blue and Gansey’s day. You can’t ruin the whole thing with the bitching and the bickering-”

“Alright, I get it. I’ll show, okay? Jesus.” Ronan shook Henry’s hand off of his jacket.

“Atta boy.” Henry flashed a bright smile.

Ronan didn’t argue, didn’t tell Henry that even though there was undeniably some pining and lots of bad decisions, it wasn’t bitching and bickering he was looking to avoid. It was heartbreak and a sensation that made his chest feel like it was caving in every time he thought about the fact Adam wanted nothing to do with him now. He wanted to make good on his word and finally let Adam be – and he would. Being in the same room as him would just make it all that much harder.

So he showed, having made his way as slowly as he could to the bar they had visited back during his first trip in November. The air felt just as heavy, filled with a certain static, as he weaved through the groups of people already gathered there.

At the back of the room, crowded around a table that was far too small for their posse, stood his friends. There was a beer waiting for him besides Gansey and Noah. Henry was standing, resting his chin on top of Blue’s head.

Ronan thanked his lucky stars that Adam Parrish had his back to him, giving him a moment to school his expression and possibly to trace the lines of his shoulder blades through his shirt with his eyes.

That was all he would allow himself. Then he would make this as easy as possible. He was on best behaviour.

“Lynch!” Gansey beamed when he saw him, as if he hadn’t seen Ronan hours ago before he left for work and as if Ronan hadn’t been, once again, sleeping on his couch for the last three days. Ronan merely nodded in response, reaching straight for the waiting beer bottle.

He tried, for the record. To look anywhere but at the man across the table, kept his eyes glued to the coasters and rings on the table, on Blue’s sparkly nail polish, but it was strange thing. Adam was the last person he wanted to look at and the one person his eyes sought out, every time single time life thrust them into a room together.

Ronan looked up and Adam’s eyes, glinting like a mirror, were already on him. For a moment, Ronan was reminded of the first time he saw him since they broke up. Then he was reminded of his lips against his own, as they stumbled through his house.  

 “Happy birthday,” he said.

Adam pressed his lips together. “Thanks.” He said, voice clipped.

His gaze drifted across the room and to Ronan’s simultaneous relief and dismay, it didn’t return to him for any of the conversations their group flitted between. With each minute that passed, Ronan felt a twist in his gut tighten, consumed with the knowledge that this, the silence and the walls and the pretending neither existed, would be how it was from now on.

“I’ll get the next round,” Ronan interrupted whatever conversation he wasn’t following, and stood, grateful for an excuse to get away. He approached the bar and ordered a repeat of what everyone had been drinking so far, sipping the last of his beer while he waited.

There was a tap on his hunched shoulder, and then Adam Parrish was stood next to him.

“Gansey sent me to help carry them back,” he said, eyes firmly forward.

Ronan rolled his eyes, knowing that Gansey was most likely just trying force them into a resolution. How was it Gansey could be so blind to a train wreck. “He knows they have trays right?”

Adam shrugged, obviously not looking for the conversation they had been dodging all evening as he picked up two beer bottles and balanced a third between them. He held his tongue as Adam began to leave.

A shatter of glass made Ronan’s head shoot back to look at him. Distracted, Adam had turned straight into another patron, dropping the bottles in a mess of green shards and foaming beer at the man’s feet. The man had appeared on Adam’s deaf side, likely making him completely unaware of his presence before the accident.

“What the fuck, man?” The man growled. He was taller than Adam, more Ronan’s height, with blonde hair combed into a swoop across his forehead and shoulders that were twice the width of Adam. He shook some glass off of his shoe.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said, immediately, raising his hands. “I didn’t see you there. Hey, can we get some napkins or something? There’s glass,” he called to the bartender, aware that heads were turned in their direction, and then accepted the wad of serviettes pushed towards him. He bent to begin cleaning the mess but rose as the man spoke again.

“Obviously, look where you’re going, asshole! Do you know how much these shoes cost?”

Adam’s expression flattened, both serious and exhausted with there this conversation was going.

“I said sorry. Do you need them cleaned?” His voice was dry, eyes calculating. “You can charge it to me if you-”

“I don’t want them cleaned, I want you-”

He emphasised the last word by prodding a fat finger at Adam’s chest and didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Ronan wasn’t sure when the last time he saw red was. It had been a long time since something like outrage simmered through his body, but the idea of someone laying hands on Adam was enough to reignite that long forgotten flame. As he moved, he was aware that his mind was on the last time he had seen someone put their hands on him, outside his trailer back when they were just kids.

One hand curled around the man’s extended wrist like a vice, the other gathered in his collar.

“Hey,” he spat. He brought the man’s face closer to his. “You don’t fucking touch him.” He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the man whimpered.

“Ronan.” Adam had laid his hand flat against Ronan’s shoulder. “Enough.”

Begrudgingly, Ronan released the man, forcing him backwards as he did so. The man’s fingers when straight to his reddening wrist.

“I apologised, it was my fault. I’m retracting my offer to have them cleaned, you lost that chance.” Adam’s cold eyes gave the man a once over. “You’re fine.” Then he looked at Ronan, who was rolling his shoulders. “ _I’m_ fine. We’re done here. Understood?”  

For a moment, Ronan could have laughed at himself, for imaging that Adam was ever out of his depth. As if Adam wasn’t perfectly capable of handling the situation.

But Adam was already walking away, heading straight to the exit and not to their table. A glance in the group’s direction saw them all looking at him, Gansey’s worried brow visibly furrowed even across the room. Ronan didn’t look at them as he followed Adam out into the night.

“Hey!” He called, as Adam was already making his way down the street at a brisk pace. He didn’t slow. “Parrish, wait.”

“Go away, Ronan.”  

“I’m sorry.” Ronan’s legs matched Adam’s strides with ease.

“Why do you always have to get involved?” He broke from his stoic gaze at the street ahead to look at him. He didn’t think they were talking about the fight. “You can’t just walk away, can you?”

“I’m _trying_ ,” He grit out, turning in front of Adam so he had to stop walking. There was an urge to reach out and grip his shoulders. “I am trying to walk away, okay?”

“That’s going well, I see,” Adam said, snidely. He pushed past Ronan’s shoulder with his own to carry on walking. Aware of his contradiction, Ronan couldn’t help but follow.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” Adam crossed the empty street, avoiding glancing at Ronan when he checked both ways. “Go back to the bar.”

“Not until I know you’re alright.”

“Alright?” Adam span around once back on the other side of the pavement. “Alright? I’m not alright, I’m ashamed of myself.”

Definitely not talking about the fight. “What happened with Stephanie?”

“I thought I didn’t owe you an explanation?”

Ronan’s pulse quickened. “You listened to that?”

“Yeah, most people check their voicemail from time to time.” There was a lull while Ronan waited for Adam to speak and Adam seemed to continue the conversation in his head without Ronan, throwing him when he said, out of nowhere. “I’ve never done anything like that – never _hurt_ anyone like that. I didn’t think I was that kind of person.”

 “You aren’t.”

“But I was – am. I went to you, I don’t even know what was running through my head. And now? I can’t even look at you without being reminded of just how horrendously I fucked up. So, no. No, Ronan I’m not alright.”

It was impossible, Ronan thought, that a sidewalk in New York could seem so still. They stood by the wall of a building, and the odd passer-by flitted past his periphery, but it felt like they were the only two people in the city while he processed that.

Ronan nodded, eyes searching the pavement, he pressed his lips together and rubbed a hand across his face.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Adam frowned.

“Okay,” Ronan said again. “I told you I’d disappear, I keep my promises. There’s the wedding, but when that shit’s over, you won’t see me again. I’m sorry.”

Then he was walking away. It seemed that Adam was so often the one walking away from him, it made the sensation of turning his back to him feel so inherently wrong. He heard Adam continue talking as he left, but the rest of it was eaten by the sounds of the city. All he heard was, “This is on me. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

 

***

 

The next day Ronan found himself lying on Blue and Gansey’s couch. Blue was also lying on it, but her head was on the opposite arm rest, most of her body on top of Ronan’s legs. Noah was spread across the floor, looking at the frilly, little baskets of gifts Helen had sent over.

“So I said, Helen, quite frankly I don’t care about wedding favours – she looked at me like I told her I eat babies. I mean, we’re having in it Fox Way’s back yard for God’s sake! No one there is gonna expect a wedding favour.”

From the floor, Noah pouted. “But I want a wedding favour.”

“You can have some tea. Take a cat for all I care.” Blue sat up, and Ronan winced as her weight shifted. “And then she tried to convince me again to organise a set menu with the caterer instead of a buffet.”

Ronan had been hearing about Blue and Helen’s disagreements for the better part of an hour, blaming the numbness his parting with Adam had left him with as to why he wasn’t taking any of it in. He knew that Blue was trying to distract him, the others having worked out that their conversation did not go well when neither returned to the bar, and if he was honest, even if he wasn’t paying attention, the knowledge she wasn’t expecting him to reply was a comfort.

It was obviously not a Gansey-approved wedding. For one thing, they wanted it as quickly as possible – their date in August meant they would have been engaged for just over two months, which was almost fast enough to seem shotgun to the Ganseys. Blue was making her own dress, but that wasn’t really that big of an issue, she was more than capable, and at least that way she would have exactly what she wanted.

She had made sure it was only family and friends and that no politicians would be invited – this was made easier to enforce, as she also insisted on having the ceremony and reception at Fox Way.

Not Gansey-approved did not, however, mean it wasn’t Dick-approved. Regardless of parents and sister, Richard Gansey III was elated with their preparations.

“I’m never getting married,” Ronan said, and then when it sounded too depressing as a single statement, “this is too much effort, why couldn’t you just go to Vegas.”

“I did suggest that. Gansey didn’t seem very happy with it.” As she spoke, Blue nudged him with her big toe. His head rolled to glance at her. “How’s your speech coming along?”

Ronan groaned, taking the cushion he had been resting on, and throwing it at her. Gansey had already been harping on at him to make sure he was prepared. “Not you too.”

“Ronan!” She chided. “Have you even started it yet?”

He waved his hand, the universal sign for: kind of. It meant: not in the slightest.

“Lynch,” Blue hit him with the cushion.

“Chill the fuck out, it’s a month away.”

“And for you that probably means you’ll have half a sentence by then,” Noah smirked up at him. He was lying on his belly, swinging his legs up and down and resting his face in his hands.

“Mary, Mother of Christ-”

Ronan got up, half tempted to dump Blue on the floor as he did so, but his mind travelled back to her recently healed injuries and he merely jostled her. She was still disgruntled. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Noah called.

“To write a fucking speech,” he wrenched it open. “Need some damn peace if I’m ever gonna do it.”

 

***

 

Peace was a term he used very liberally in New York. The coffee shop he stumbled into was bustling, but it was the least crammed one he had passed. He’d had two black coffees in the past hour, and with a napkin and a sharpie he pinched from a barista when they weren’t looking, he had started his speech five times. Each attempt had a line through it. He found himself staring out the window, imagining glimpses of a certain man.

Another coffee, that might help him focus. He ordered and pointed to his spot by the window, saying he was going to slip outside for a smoke. As he reached the door, it opened inwards and a woman only reaching the height of his chest stumbled into him.

“Oh gosh, I am so sorry!”

He recognised that voice, sincere and apologetic. Sweet, but genuine. He looked down to see Stephanie Burton, her mouth open to say something else but whatever it was died on her parted lips as she saw him.

Instead, a laugh, somewhat hysterical, bubbled out of her. “Oh wow. _Wow_. This is – well, this is just my luck these days, huh?”

Words weren’t Ronan’s expertise at the best of times, but right now he couldn’t summon any. Luckily for him, Stephanie seemed to be a better person than he would ever consider himself.

“How are you, Ronan?” She asked, stepping aside so they were no longer blocking the entrance to the coffee shop. There was something in her tone that suggested, against all odds, that she cared about the answer.  

“Been better,” he answered, honestly. “Been a lot worse.”

 She considered this, glancing down to her sensibly-heeled shoes. “Yes, I suppose that’s a good way to put it really.” When he didn’t reply, she nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”

Ronan was about to walk out and not turn back, coffee waiting for him at the window be damned. But his fingers let go of the cigarette packet in his pocket and he looked at her.

“Let me get you a coffee,” he said.

He watched as Stephanie did something he had seen her do once before. The anxious furrow to her brow smoothed as she took a deep breath, her shoulders lowered and it was as if she used that one pull of air to gather herself completely. Ronan was both in awe and envious.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” she smoothed down the front of her blouse, and looked back at him, not averting his gaze. “That would be nice.”

 

He bought her coffee. Instead of taking it to go like he thought she might, she accepted her drink and sat in the chair opposite the one he had already been occupying. She took a sip, watching him over the lid. A minute ticked by, while neither spoke, until she huffed.

“You look like you’ve been dying to say something.”

Ronan considered this. There was a lot he wanted to say, none of it he felt eloquent enough to express. “What did he tell you?”

Stephanie blinked, but regained her composure quickly. “What do you mean?”

Ronan had tried to piece together how things went down between the two of them and then he wondered if he was being inconsiderate, but Stephanie looked far more comfortable with the conversation than he felt.  “Gansey said that you – that the wedding was off.”  

“ _Gansey_ told you?”

Ronan nodded.

“You haven’t spoken to Adam about it?”

“No,” he said firmly. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

She exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “What an idiot,” she rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ronan, he told me. About what happened in Ireland and before then and before us, he told me everything.”

Stephanie was nice. The same level of nice as Noah, he thought. Maybe even Matthew. Right now, her expression didn’t look nice. He thought about offering her a free hit – God knew he deserved it. Until he realised, she looked tired. He couldn’t tell from her appearance, her styled hair or neat outfit, but there was a deep set to her eyes that spoke volumes.

“I’m so sorry.” He found he meant it.

Once again, she laughed, it wasn’t amused but it wasn’t unkind. “It’s okay, Ronan.”

Clearly, she didn’t understand.

“But – it was me. I kissed him.”

“Talk about twisting the knife,” she mimed turning a dagger in her stomach. “Yes, I know. I know he kissed you first though.”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think any of that is ‘okay’. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Of course I didn’t. And it’s not like – _okay_ , okay. It just is what it is, you know. But I’ve also had two months with my therapist to come to these conclusions. I’m not sure how this conversation would have gone not too long ago.”

“What happened? When he told you?”

“I broke up with him. At that point I was looking to be as far away from it all as possible. But as time went on, I came to better terms with it.” 

She made a point to look at him when she spoke now. “People don’t cheat without reason. Don’t get me wrong – sometimes that reason is the fact they’re a terrible person and that’s all there is. You and I both know Adam Parrish is not a terrible person. If we were okay and happy and meant to be and all of that, it wouldn’t have mattered who turned up. Something had gone wrong with us before you. Not that excuses it, of course.

“And you know what? After everything had gone down, and the worst had passed? I realised I felt relieved. So, so relieved that this had all come to head before the wedding, that he had told me, that I had realised that the doubts about our relationship that I was trying to ignore - they were real. He wasn’t all there and honestly? I’m not sure if I was either.”

Ronan had never heard her talk for so long before. She seemed different, but Ronan had a feeling it wasn’t that she had changed, he had just never had a reason to see this side of her before. He thought back to Adam talking about her in the barn. _She doesn’t put up with any shit_ , is what he had said. He could see that now.

Her next words shook him from his thoughts.

“Y’know the problem isn’t that he kissed you, Ronan.” She punctuated this by taking a sip of her coffee, as if trying to seem casual. “It’s that he’s in love with you.”

There was something helpless about the way she said it. There was a slight hitch that betrayed the pain she felt saying it aloud. But mostly, she said it as though she couldn’t believe Ronan was so blind.

A strange panic was filling Ronan, it made his skin too warm, itch against his clothes. She had to have been mistaken. “He’s not – he didn’t say that.”

“He didn’t have to,” she shrugged. “I know Adam. What he’s doing now? Ignoring you? It’s his way of punishing himself for hurting me. I know I’ll be okay. I want him to be too.”

“He cares about you,” Ronan said, regretting it immediately. It was both obvious and stupidly insensitive.

“I know,” Stephanie almost smiled. “And I care about him too, very much.”

She tapped her fingers against the side of her coffee cup and stared out the window for a moment. Then, she ducked her head as, finally a real smile found its way onto her mouth. “I’m moving to Australia.”

This time Ronan stared. She laughed at his expression and unlike previously, he detected some actual notes of joy there.

“At the end of the month, when it happened, I just asked my boss where they could transfer me – because it’s a big company, y’know – and he said they had a position in Australia. And I took it. I just took it. I don’t know if you remember - ”

“I remember,” he interrupted. He remembered their last conversation very clearly, when she told him there was so much she wanted to do. “That’s brave.”

She smiled. “I think we’ve been through similar stuff. I’m still trying my best to believe everything happens for a reason. I’m hoping this will be my reason. And I hope you two find yours.”

 

***

 

Being back in Henrietta was like entering a time capsule. He flew straight to Virginia, avoiding the calamity of the others road-tripping down, and congratulated himself on showing up at all by renting a nice car. It was sleek and fast, not his BMW, but it took the curves of the road like a saint and the engine purred beneath him like a sinner.

He slowed as he drove through the town, and felt something unrecognisable stir in him as he realised it was exactly as he had left it. Give or take a few businesses, the streets looked as though no time had passed at all. He passed Nino’s and the all night supermarket and had to stop himself from pulling over to stop at St. Agnes. A delay with his flight meant that he was late as it was.

300 Fox Way hadn’t changed much over the years either – at least not to his, untrained eye. Gansey’s horrendous minivan was parked in the driveway, next to another car he didn’t recognise, one that presumably belonged to the psychics. The door to the house was open, people filtering in and out, carrying in various boxes from the car in question. One figure paused as he approached, standing squarely, a hand on his hip and using the other to shield the sun from his eyes.

When Ronan stopped the car to get out, Gansey was there to greet him.

“Ronan Lynch,” he said, closing the car door for him. It meant _, I can’t believe this is happening._ “How have you been?”

The taller man considered the question, following as Gansey lead him into the house. More than anything, in the month since his visit to New York, he had been busy. Made sure there was always work to be done, made sure it was physically exerting in hopes of evading dreams when it came time to sleep, and made sure he didn’t have enough time to think of Adam Parrish. It was only a moderately successful operation.

“Fine,” he peered around a corner, looking for someone he knew. It was busier than he remembered. He couldn’t tell who were wedding guests, who were psychics and who were clients. “What about you? Feeling the last minute jitters yet? I don’t know if you noticed but I got a getaway car in case you’re getting cold feet.”

“Ronan,” Gansey frowned and then glanced around, as if looking to see if there was anyone who had heard and might possibly misinterpret the joke. “My toes are toasty, thank you very much.”

“Alright then, I’ll extend the offer to Sargent.”

“You are truly a terrible best man.”

“The worst.” Ronan gave him a shark-like grin.

They entered the kitchen and Ronan was relieved to see Noah sitting at the counter, peering into a mug of whatever tea Maura was working on. She was standing over his shoulder, Persephone and Calla sat at the table. There was a pitcher of what looked like just orange juice, but Ronan knew to assume was actually mimosa, judging by the glasses they were nursing.

“Snake,” Calla called, a vicious glint in her eye. It was almost warm.

Ronan raised a hand in as much of a greeting as he was going to offer.

“Hello Ronan,” Persephone smiled at him, and her mouth formed a little ‘o’ shape, that she then tried to conceal. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“He’ll be doing better in a few days.” Calla wiggled her eyebrows. Ronan had not missed the ambiguity of psychics.

“I think we’ll all be doing better once the stress of setting up is over,” Maura said, quickly. “Speaking of which, where is that daughter of mine?”

“Present!” Blue’s voice travelled into the room as she entered, face almost entirely obscured by a box of decorations she was lugging. Gansey was quick to swoop in and remove it from her hands. “Ah, Ronan’s showed up. About time.”

She crossed the room and in a somewhat surprising gesture, she pulled him down into a hug at her height. Taken aback, he allowed himself to be yanked down and understood when she turned to his ear. “You have about thirty seconds, he’s just moving something for Helen.”

To anyone else it might have sounded ominous, but Ronan knew she was giving him a moment to ready himself to see Adam Parrish again. While appreciated, he wasn’t sure what he supposed to do with his allotted time. He was released and he straightened to his full height. He pushed up the sleeves of his jacket. He ignored the stares of the psychics. He tried to steel himself and knew it would probably be useless.

“Maura, Helen was wondering if there’s an outlet we can plug these lights into-”

Adam had appeared in the kitchen, not looking up, his hands filled with fairy lights that he was trying to unravel. For the moment he was unaware of Ronan’s presence, he was unguarded. His nose wrinkled as he puzzled over the wires.

He glanced up and took inventory of everyone watching him, eyes flicking between the room’s occupants and then landing on Ronan. It was clear he had taken him by surprise, a little composure lost as his lips parted slightly, and the intake of breath that no one else might have noticed.

It was a perplexing thing for Ronan’s mind to contemplate, seeing Adam Parrish in the setting of Fox Way again. If Ronan closed his eyes, he could picture seventeen year old Adam sitting at the very same table he leaned against now, bonier and more exhausted. Eyes still lighting up in a way that made Ronan’s pulse thrill when he laughed at a joke. The Adam in front of him was everything that boy had dreamed about, independent, thriving, accomplished. Despite everything, Ronan was filled with a rush of pride.

“Hey,” Adam broke the silence first and Ronan could sense the relief of their spectators flood the kitchen.

“Hey,” Ronan echoed.

There was something about the way Adam was looking at him this time. He wasn’t glaring, nor did he look vacant, as if he was trying to pretend Ronan wasn’t even there. His expression was, for once, beautifully open, though deep in thought. There was a certain vulnerability deep in the crease of his brow and Ronan wished he didn’t want to smooth it out.

He was aware that he should be angry, perhaps, after the last fight. The most recent of many, he thought to himself. All he felt was intrigued by what had caused this change.

“Yep!” Maura chimed in, matching towards Adam to take the lights. “We can run an extension from here. Now, there’s no use for standing around. There’s a lot to do, so get a move on.”

And with that she began to corral them from the kitchen. Ronan started to follow, giving Noah a slight push to get moving and receiving a middle finger in return, when he felt someone catch his wrist.

He looked down to see Adam’s hand wrapped around it. It burned. His eyes followed the bend of his fingers, up his slight wrist and along his arm to Adam’s face.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, not looking away from Ronan’s face. He released his wrist and Ronan suppressed a shiver. “When we get a free moment.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. Now he wanted to talk?

As he watched Adam leave to catch up with the others, he had half a mind to walk out of Fox Way. Why is it their conversations always happened on his terms? A stubborn part of him wanted to tell Adam to forget it. A larger part of him was something too desperate to be just curious, and needed to know what he had to say.

When Adam said a free moment, Ronan knew, he meant a moment away from the chaos that was the day before a wedding, and away from the prying eyes of their nosy friends. A free moment, it turned out, was impossible to find.

They worked in the August heat, assembling chairs and tables, stringing lights and flowers and whatever decorations Helen deemed tasteful enough. Whenever Ronan finished one job, and began to make his way to find Adam, another was thrust into his hands by Helen or Henry – they both had come equipped with clip board and instructions and a never ending list.

Not knowing what Adam wanted to talk about, combined with the sun beating down on his back as he tied garlands to guest chairs, was making him considerably irritable. A glance in Adam’s direction showed him and Noah doing the same thing to an arch that had been constructed for the ceremony.

 “Well,” Gansey huffed, looking over the yard. “I think that that’s it for today, don’t you?”

“It’ll do,” Blue said, shrugging but quickly ceased her teasing when she saw Gansey’s offended expression.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll throw you down the aisle, maggot.” Ronan meant it.

“It’s perfect,” she said simply. Ronan ignored the way Gansey’s expression turned mushy.

 

***

 

They went to Nino’s for Gansey’s night out.

When it was decided they had gotten as much ready as possible for the following day, Gansey had insisted on going to the hotel they were all staying at – minus Blue and Adam, who were both staying at Fox Way. Today Ronan had learned that Adam was technically Blue’s maid of honour. He had not learned that from Adam himself, however, because no one had given them an opportunity to talk yet.

He couldn’t blame them honestly – it wasn’t as if they had parted on good terms last time, and everyone was aware of that. Gansey had given up on trying to force them into a peaceful truce and was probably now the one giving orders to make sure they were never alone together. Every time they caught each other’s eye, or even seemed to head in the same direction, somebody would insert themselves between them. Adam’s request was still ringing in his ears by the time they were seated at a booth in Nino’s.

“It feels rather strange being here without Jane,” Gansey was almost pouting, stirring his ice tea with a straw.

“If we call her, maybe she’ll come and spit in our drinks and it’ll be like old times,” Noah suggested cheerfully.

Across from him, Adam snickered. He seemed less on edge than Ronan would have thought, being back in Henrietta. The town was making Ronan himself antsy.

“This is a stag night,” Ronan pointed out. Not a very good one, admittedly, but Gansey wasn’t the kind to enjoy the usual bachelor party activities. He didn’t know which one of them would be more uncomfortable in a strip club. “Your last night of freedom and all that, you’re not supposed to miss her.”

“I always thought that was bewildering, quite honestly. Stag nights make it sound like no one wants to get married in the first place.”

“Sometimes they don’t.” Gansey looked more confused. Ronan shrugged. “Straight people.”

He looked around at their empty plates. After dinner they were heading to a bar that no one but Ronan had ever been to - he was the only one with a fake ID in their youth, and the only one with a reason to be in a bar in the first place. He wanted a smoke before they left so he rose from his seat, flashing the packet as a sign to where he was going.

Outside was far cooler than it had been while they were setting up the yard, but the air still felt sticky against his bare arms. The cars lining the lot suggested that somewhere in the restaurant there was a different generation of Aglionby students, wasting nights before summer ended. He listened to the cicadas, a gentle constant buzz, until the door to the restaurant opened.

“I think we have about ten minutes before they realise I didn’t go to the bathroom,” Adam appeared beside him, his eyes trained on the parking lot just like Ronan’s.

“Better cut to the chase then,” Ronan said, conscious that he was bracing himself.

What was it he needed to say? Were they about to work out the logistics of navigating a friendship group without having to see each other again? Maybe Adam could have Christmas and Ronan the summer holidays. He almost laughed at the thought but Adam startled him.

“I owe you an apology.”

Ronan blinked. He turned, and when Adam was closer than he expected, he found himself looking down at his earnest face. “What?”

“I owe you an apology,” he repeated.

“I heard that, but what for?”

Adam sucked in a large breath, his chest expanding and his eye lashes fluttering as he blew it out. “You’re always saying sorry. You apologised for what happened back then, and for what happened in Ireland and for what happened with me and Steph. I wanted to blame you, because that’s a lot easier than being honest, but none of that was your fault. I really need to be the one saying sorry. These past few months, I’ve put you in positions that shouldn’t have happened because – well, because I was scared.”

“What were you scared of?” Ronan asked. He could feel his cigarette burning down to the filter between his fingers.

“Everything?” Adam offered. “Disturbing the balance of the life I had made since you. I was scared of having you back around, and of _wanting_ you back around. And hurting Steph. And the fact that I knew we weren’t going to work out, even if I wanted it to. But that’s no excuse. I was selfish. And I’m really sorry for that, Ronan.”

“Where did this come from?” Ronan knew he sounded gruffer than he felt. It was intentional, to stop himself from doing something stupid, like telling him that he understood and forgave him and loved him still. “Last month you couldn’t look at me.”

“I spoke to Steph.” Another surprise. “She turned up at my apartment and said that she had bumped into a certain someone at a coffee shop and they had gotten talking.”

The look Adam was giving him left no room for doubt who that someone was. “Oh.”

“Then she called me an idiot and shouted at me for a bit. Said that if anyone deserved to throw themselves a pity party it was her and that…”

Adam trailed off, as if the next part would be difficult to say.

“And that?”

The door to Nino’s opened again, a break in the quiet night as the music that was playing inside slipped out for a moment. Gansey, Noah and Henry exited. Ronan wanted to bang his head against the side of the building.

“Ah.” Gansey’s eyes swivelled between the two of them. “There you are. Shall we get going then?”

There was a flash of pain as the cigarette in his hand had burnt through to his fingertips. Ronan cursed and stormed towards his car without waiting for the others.

 

***

 

Their time at the bar consisted of three rounds of drinks, Ronan going easy because he was driving, Gansey because he was getting married tomorrow, and Adam because while he drank, he never got drunk. The five men sat around a table, happy enough to chat without any input from Ronan and no more than a few words from Adam. Gansey seemed cheerful, after what Ronan considered a pretty piss-poor stag night – Henry said as much.

After they clambered into Ronan’s rental car, he made the hotel his first destination. “I’m driving Parrish back to Fox Way,” he stated.

“Ronan.” Gansey’s voice was uncertain.

“It’s fine,” Adam spoke as he exited the back seat. He opened the passenger door and waited for Gansey to get out.

“I’ll get him home in one piece, Dick. No one’s gonna disappear before tomorrow.”

He still looked anxious, but Gansey vacated the car along with the others. Adam settled into the seat and kept his eyes on the dashboard, allowing Ronan to watch him for a moment, before he made the engine roar back to life.

“Do you want to go straight there?”

Adam thought for a moment. “Drive for a bit.”

Ronan nodded and took to the street, trying to focus on the push and pull of the car. After a minute it wasn’t enough to distract him. “What else did Stephanie say?”

Clearly having been expecting the question, Adam didn’t hesitate this time. “She said that I can’t change the past and what’s done is done and to stop being whiny about it. That I better make sure it was worth something.”

The road in front of them stretched out in front of them, lit intermitted the yellow glow of streetlights. The interior of the car flashed light and warm as they passed them, then shrouding them in darkness again when Ronan took a left onto a country road.

“What does that mean?” He asked, frustrated and hoping that it didn’t show but Adam could probably read the way his fingers flexed on the wheel.

Adam hadn’t prepared an answer that.

“What do you want, Parrish?” He pushed.

“You. Us.”

The car swerved. It didn’t mean much on a deserted road but was a sure tell of how Ronan jolted, his heart racing. He swerved again, intentionally this time, into a lay-by. He braked sharply and tore open the door.

“Ronan, wait.”

Adam was following him out into the night, but he didn’t look at him. He cast his eyes upwards, resting his hands on the back of his head. He kicked at the sand.

When Ronan looked back at Adam, standing by the car, he was watching him. His blue eyes patient. “That’s – don’t freak out on me.”

“That’s helpful, thanks. You should’ve started with that.” Ronan bit. “God, I swear you’re gonna give me whiplash.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” Adam raised his hands. Ronan inched closer. “Not after everything. But I couldn’t not tell you. All I’ve thought about for the past month is, what was this all for? I’ve got to be honest. I lo-”

“Don’t,” Ronan interrupted, nearly putting his hand over Adam’s mouth. Instead it hovered, an inch away from touching his jaw. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I mean it,” he said, forcefully. “I won’t say it, if you’re not ready to hear it. But you asked what I want and this is it and I can’t ignore it just because it scares me. I want you in my life because every single day that you weren’t it felt like – like a part of me was somewhere else too. And I didn’t realise until you walked into that stupid diner.”

He let his hand cup Adam’s cheek, then trailed down to rest on his neck and delighted in feeling that his pulse was just as fast as his own. Wasn’t this what he had been waiting for? Is that why hearing it felt so overwhelming?

“I can’t,” Ronan said, his grip tightening when Adam tried to pull away, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “I can’t _right now_. This is a lot and it’s Blue and Gansey’s day tomorrow and - I thought you hated me.”  

Somewhere Ronan was kicking himself. He should be kissing Adam senseless right now, telling him that this was what he wanted too. But something in him wasn’t thinking straight, the weight of Adam’s words pressing on that part of his brain that made good decisions.

“I’ve never hated you.” Ronan remembered hearing those words before, what felt like an age ago. “I almost forgot there’s the wedding tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t – I’m giving a speech.” They were close enough that Ronan could feel the puff of Adam’s breath as he laughed. Gently, he guided Adam forward, so he could rest his forehead against his. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s a not now,” His hand found the one by Ronan’s side and linked their fingers together. “I get it. I haven’t given you much of a reason to be sure about this, so if you need time – take it. I’m not going anywhere, not this time.”

Those words were enough for Ronan to close the distance and press lips against lips, so softly. Adam sighed against his mouth and it made Ronan question his resolve, but he wasn’t the one to part first.

When they got back in the car, neither spoke but the silence wasn’t heavy. For once, Ronan didn’t feel the weight of his feelings, now it felt like Adam was helping to shoulder them. It was like the air after a storm. A few claps of thunder, a lightning strike later, and it was clear.

 He slowed the car to a standstill outside Fox Way and saw Adam’s hand hover above the handle before he got out. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow, Parrish.”

As he watched him enter the house, he felt like his sixteen year old self once again: completely astounded by the fact Adam Parrish wanted him. He hoped that fact made more sense to him in the morning.

 

***

 

Of all the uncomfortable situations Ronan had been put in, the suit Gansey had picked out, matched with August heat in Virginia was one of the worst. And Ronan had been in plenty of uncomfortable situations. Dinners with Declan. Meeting exes in New York diners. Cake tasting with said ex’s fiancée.

“What is taking so long?” Ronan groaned aside to Noah, who was stood beside him at the end of the aisle.

“Shut up,” Noah elbowed him as discreetly as he could.

“Please, Ronan.” Gansey was doing very well at pretending he wasn’t nervous, but Ronan knew his tells. His obvious stillness, marred only by the way he was fiddling with his watchstrap and the way his eyes kept darting down to the end of the aisle.

Ronan yawned, large and comically and locked eyes with Adam while he did so.

Adam was on the other side of the altar, stood between Orla and Helen as Blue’s bridesmaids, looking criminally handsome in his suit. He cracked a slight smile and it was the most communication they’d had all day.

Once again, it had been everyone’s mission to keep them apart. Little did they know that there probably wasn’t much danger of them arguing, as Ronan had spent the night remembering the gentle touch of Adam’s lips and his nearly whispered words.

He wondered if Adam thinking of the same thing, with the way a blush was forming across the strip of freckles on his face. Ronan wanted to think the heat had nothing to do with it.

His attention was dragged from the man opposite him, by Gansey suddenly straightening. Ronan didn’t have to look to know that Blue had appeared, but he did anyway.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the dress Blue had made was not it. It was never going to be white, but the soft peach colour of the flowing material was delicate in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Nor had he expected the flowers that adorned it, that swept upwards on its skirt, cocooning her in a swirl of petals, a mesh of colours that shouldn’t have worked together.

Though she insisted by no means was she being ‘given away’, Maura walked her down the aisle, Blue’s arm linked through hers and a somewhat bashful smile on her face.

“Wow,” Noah was almost giddy besides him.  
  
“Yeah,” Gansey agreed, voice tight. If there was already a tear rolling down his cheek, no one mentioned it.

The ceremony was, thank God, short and sweet. When Blue reached them the shy quality to her smile had been abandoned, in favour of a big goofy one at the sight of her boys waiting for her.

Their vowels were personal and intimate, not bold proclamations for the whole audience. Ronan wondered if anyone not as close as them could hear them properly, but supposed it didn’t matter. Like Blue had said, it wasn’t for anyone else. When they kissed they were met with applause that he wasn’t sure they even noticed. They were disgustingly wrapped up in each other.

After photos – so many photos, Ronan was sweltering, he wondered if the photographer managed to get one where he didn’t look like he had sun stroke – guests were seated at the long tables under a pop up gazebo and the sun began to set. He was grateful to shuck his suit jacket and loosen his tie, not as grateful when he was told he would be giving the first speech.

Gansey gave him an encouraging nudge, after having tapped on his glass for the small crowd’s attention and Ronan rose from his seat besides the groom.

“For some reason this is the second speech I’ve given at a wedding. If you know me at all, I bet that’s surprising. Unfortunately for me, Dick is excellent at guilt tripping so – here we are.”

There were a few laughs and he felt himself settling more. He fished out the scrap of paper he had been carrying in his jacket pocket all day and tried his best to pretend no one was there.

“If you’re here, that means you know the Blue-and-Gansey love story already.” His voice was dry, but he didn’t think anyone expected anything less. “They met when they were sixteen, went from hating each other to dating, which shocked no one as much as they thought it would, and have been together ever since. But that’s not quite the whole truth.”

He looked down at Gansey next to him, and smirked at his confused expression.

“They broke up briefly when they were seventeen. I remember this because I played the role of supportive best friend, meaning that I let Gansey drive my car while I listened to him explain whatever stupid argument they’d had. In the end, we had driven around for nearly an hour before I got hungry. We went to the pizza place Blue worked at, though she wasn’t there that night, and got maybe two steps in the door before Dick was turning on his heel, babbling on how stupid it was and he needed to apologise.

“We drove to her house and I watched Dick practice his truly terrible attempts at saying sorry, only to be shot down the moment Maura opened the door. While we had driven here, Blue had cycled to our place saying how ridiculous the whole thing was. So when I say they broke up briefly – it was more like, three hours. Tops.

“Even at seventeen, they knew at the end of the day they were happier with each other and that was what mattered. The other bits – disagreements, matters of opinion, Blue’s fashion sense and Dick’s obsessions – those bits could be worked out. They’re not a great couple in spite of those things, but because they never let them get in the way.”

Ronan shifted his eyes from his paper to Blue, though he couldn’t help but let them rest on Adam for a moment, and suddenly what he had written on paper wasn’t what he wanted to say at all.

“To them, nothing is insurmountable, because when you love someone – and you’re lucky enough that, somehow against all odds, they love you back – you owe it to the both of you to work it out.”

He felt as though he was having a verbal epiphany, and wondered if it showed in his voice how he had veered off his script.

“So, uh, to the happy couple,” he raised his glass and watched as others joined him. “Excelsior, and all that.”

Adam lifted his in unison, making sure that Ronan noticed his gaze when he mouthed: “Excelsior.”

 

***

 

More speeches were given and food was served, chairs and tables were moved and a dance floor was created and Ronan let it all wash over him, as he waited for a moment. There was a thrum in his chest that made it hard to sit still.

He managed to snag Adam as the music started, gripping him by his wrist and tugging him towards the house and away from the party.

“We’ll miss the first dance,” Adam pointed out.

The evening had cooled the heat, but Ronan still wondered how Adam still managed to keep his attire impeccable, shirt tucked in, tie done up, suit jacket hugging his shoulders in a way that made Ronan want to take it off himself. It was weird knowing that, for the first time in so long, he didn’t need to feel guilty about that.

“We’ve seen them dance before.” Ronan carried on towards the house.

“True.”

Adam began to pull his wrist from Ronan’s grip, but only far enough to slip his hand into his instead. His thumb brushed over Ronan’s knuckle.

He didn’t stop when they reached the house, but continued upstairs to the privacy of the reading room, shutting the door behind them. Adam took a seat by the window, watching Ronan intently. He waited.

“Blue got hit by a car.”

That was not what he had intended to say at all.

“She did,” was all Adam replied, brows furrowing.

“And my dad died far younger than he was supposed to. And I broke my arm skiing. And Stephanie – she’s moving to Australia. And Blue and Gansey just got _married_.” There was a silence, while Adam waited for Ronan to find his point. “Life happens. This stuff happens every day and I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what anymore?”

Ronan started towards Adam. “I can’t do another day – fuck it, hour, second, whatever – pretending that I’m not in love with you. I’m no good at it, anyway.”

He knelt, so he was at eye level with Adam, wanting desperately to bridge the gap but not sure how to reach out yet. He settled for a hand on Adam’s knee. “I meant what I said there. The mistakes we’ve made, they’re in the past and there’s nothing we can do about that. I don’t want to waste time over things I can’t change anymore. And fuck knows what will happen tomorrow? We have right now. The rest we can work out – if you want to.”

“I told you last night, I’m not going anywhere. I want to.” Relief surged through Ronan so fiercely he couldn’t fight a grin. There was fondness in Adam’s eyes when he returned it. “Will you let me say it now?”

Ronan took a moment to nod.

“I love you, Ronan Lynch.”

How could he not kiss the way Adam’s lips curved saying his last name?

It was a kiss that was more teeth than lips, if only for the fact that neither could wipe the smile from their mouths for it to be otherwise. Adam wound his arms around Ronan’s neck and pressed forwards, but ended up throwing off the balance Ronan had crouching on the floor. They toppled, sprawling onto the reading room’s floor. Adam laughed and he wanted to swallow the sound.

“We should get back,” Adam shut his eyes. “Before someone comes looking for us and we get in trouble.”

He hated that he was right and made this very clear with the huff he gave, getting up off the floor. Once steady on his feet, he offered his hand to help Adam up and then ushered him out the door before he could change his mind.

They made their way back to the party, Ronan taking pleasure in being able to walk shoulder to shoulder with the man beside him, knocking him with his hip. Adam stumbled and cursed, starting after him with a devious look in his eye. Ronan ran, halting before he ran straight into Noah. Adam stopped just before he collided with the both of them.

“Hey, you guys missed the cake,” Noah frowned, stabbing at a piece of it on a paper plate. “Where’d you go?”

He looked between them, his face cycling between a variety of expressions as realisation dawned on him. Were they obvious, or was it just impossible to pull the wool over Noah’s eyes?

“When did this happen?” He asked, pointing at them with his fork.

Ronan looked at Adam to see how they were approaching it. Adam was less concerned. “Just now,” he answered.

“ _Just now,_ just now?” Noah confirmed, as if there could be another hidden meaning. They nodded. “Yes!” He pumped his fork wielding fist in the air. “Where’s Cheng? He owes me thirty bucks!”

Throughout the rest of the night they were still split from each other’s side, but it didn’t matter to Ronan. Wherever he was in the room, he knew he could look up and find Adam and that it wouldn’t be too long before their eyes met, if Adam wasn’t already looking. The subtle smiles they shared were almost enough to tide him over, until people began to leave and Adam joined Ronan in his car, back to his hotel.

 

***

 

It took too long to get his key card to work. They had kissed in the car, with the tangle of fingers in hair and wrapped around ties, safe in the knowledge that this was okay, this was allowed. Then Adam had tugged Ronan’s bottom lip between his teeth and they both decided that his hotel room was, in fact, necessary. Adam had Ronan pushed up against the wall of the elevator until it dinged and Ronan fumbled to get them through the door.

His room was as he left it, his duffle bag open and clothes scattered around. He had half a mind to kick them out of sight, but Adam’s hand on the back of his neck was bringing him down for another kiss, his fingers brushing against the soft buzzed hair on Ronan’s nape.

Ronan’s hands settled on his waist, but trailed up his chest to push the suit jacket off of his shoulders. Adam seemed to agree with the sentiment, removing himself from Ronan’s mouth, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw and setting to work on undoing his own tie. He tugged on Ronan’s rolled up shirt sleeve.

“This – off.” His fingers worked at his tie’s knot and slipped it over his head. “Now please.”

He would have laughed, but was occupied with getting his stuttering fingers to undo his shirt buttons. It was shed and Adam abandoned taking off his own, in favour of running his hands over Ronan’s arms – but Ronan was more than happy to take over, letting it join his on the floor.

Adam pressed them so they were flush, skin on skin and vicious mouths back on each other once again, Ronan’s hands steady on the small of his back. He barely noticed Adam walking them back towards the bed until it hit the back of his knees. He sat and Adam clambered on top of him, guiding Ronan’s hands to his ass and only just failing to bite back a moan as he held him.

Ronan had attached himself to Adam’s neck, kissing and sucking, nipping at the spots he knew were sensitive, and drawing out every sharp intake of breath he could. A hand on his chest pushed him back so he could lie back with Adam over him. His breath was the one to hitch when Adam reached for his belt buckle, his other hand bracing by Ronan’s head, sure and steady.

“Can I?” He murmured. Ronan nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Fuck,” he bit out when Adam gripped him. He was sure this was all going to happen embarrassingly quickly, but couldn’t find it in him to care as Adam began to work him in earnest. In a haze, he found Adam’s zipper. His voice was rough when he asked, “this okay?”

“God, yes,” Adam nearly gasped as Ronan set about getting his hands on him.

A part of him felt like a teenager again, trying something for the first time. They hadn’t even bothered to completely lose their pants, it wasn’t their priority – it was proximity. Needy and desperate, pants and groans against each other’s mouths until it was too much. Ronan wasn’t surprised he finished first, choking out Adam’s name as a warning before he coated his hand. He took some pride in the fact that Adam followed almost immediately, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment neither moved, but Adam did touch his forehead to Ronan’s.

“What are you thinking?” Adam asked.

“Really glad I decided not to share a room with Noah.”

Adam smirked, resting on his elbow. He pressed a kiss just below Ronan’s ear. “Yeah. Me too.”

***

When Ronan woke the following morning, panic seized at his chest when he found the space next to him empty. It subsided when he sat up, prepared for the worst, and saw Adam sitting cross legged at the bottom of the bed, wearing boxers and a hoodie he had obviously found in Ronan’s bag. Last night felt like a dream – but here was his proof.

“Morning,” Adam said. Ronan grunted.

His eyes travelled down, expecting to rest on the skin of Adam’s thigh, but found instead a pillow on his lap and a hotel stationary note pad on top of it. “What are you doing?”

“Working the rest out,” he put the pencil to his lips and glanced down at what Ronan could now see was a list.

He let his head fall back against the pillow, but didn’t look away. “When I said that, I didn’t mean like, right now. When you could be in bed. With me.”

Adam ignored him patting the empty space besides him. “I just think there are some things that we should address.”

Ronan sighed theatrically, but propped himself up again anyway, the sheets pooling around his bare waist. “Okay then. Hit me. What’s number one?”

“One,” Adam began slowly, as if waiting for Ronan to say he didn’t actually want to hear. “We argue. A lot.”

“That doesn’t count,” Ronan said. Adam looked close to rolling his eyes. “The past few months, we were arguing around the around the actual problem.”

“And when we broke up?”

“We were _teens_ , c’mon – cut us some slack.”

“So, communication,” he wrote that down on the pad. His hair was mussed on one side, Ronan wanted to card his fingers through it. It still seemed strange that he could do that now. Still felt as natural as breathing. “We’ve got to tell each other what we’re feeling.”

“Is this really necessary?” He thought that was a given.

“I’m serious about making this work, so yes. Just hear me out. Two,” Adam tapped the pencil a couple of times and bit his lip. “I kissed you while I was engaged to Stephanie.”

“Yeah, I was there for that bit.”

“I can understand if that means, trust wise, you feel like-”

“What?” Ronan frowned. “God, Parrish – of course I trust you. I know you’re the kinda guy to learn from your mistakes. Look, put that down, get over here.”

“There’s just one more,” he protested. Ronan sighed. “Three. You live in Ireland. With a farm and a dog. And I live in New York. With a job and an apartment.”

He would be lying if he said that hadn’t crossed his mind as well. In his head, there was a silent countdown to his flight home – they had just over a day, thirty hours. Maybe he could push it back another day, but there was only so long he could leave Rogue with his mom for.

He thought of lying on Gansey’s floor with Adam sleeping next to him. He thought of Adam on the beach in Ireland, chasing Rogue in and out of the surf. In truth, it really didn’t matter where they were.

“I don’t know what we’ll do about that,” he said, honestly. “But I can tell you it’s not enough to change my mind about anything. And right now? We’re in the same country. Shit, we’re in the same bed. It’s a crime we’re not making the most of it.”

Sitting forwards, he took the note pad from Adam’s fingers and tossed it aside. He lifted Adam’s hand and pressed it to his lips, watching him with hooded eyes.

“Lynch,” Adam said, as if he didn’t already have his full attention. “Kiss me.”

Ronan grinned, pulling him closer with a hand wrapped in his own hoodie. “You really don’t have to ask.”

Kissing Adam Parrish still felt like a dream, but there was a voice in his head reminding him that he was allowed this. That after all this time, they had found their way back to each other. Ronan held him closer, accepting the fact that as long as Adam wanted him, he was never letting this go again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was a lot!! I was really worried about the resolution seeming rushed compared to the build but honestly, these boys had just had enough. 
> 
> You might have noticed I've made this part of a series, and that's because I've decided to go ahead with an epilogue. I've already started it and I'm not sure how long it'll be but - it'll mostly be just, unadulterated fluff. So it's not entirely over! 
> 
> I also am thinking of writing some scenes from Adam's POV because that was suggested and I am pretty eager to show what was going through his head at some parts. 
> 
> Anyway! Thank you so much for taking time to read what started as word vomit and ended as something I think I managed to shape into an actual story. All comments and everything are so appreciated, you're all wonderful and I love you 
> 
> (also if you wanna say hi, my tumblr is sweater-sasquatch too) 
> 
> Kat out, ily


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